


Hope

by Sarah Problem (SarahProblem)



Series: Come With Me [9]
Category: Doom (2005), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Complete, Crossover, Doom, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahProblem/pseuds/Sarah%20Problem
Summary: An old curse comes back to haunt Kirk and McCoy. But there's always hope things can finally be made right.





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a cross over of my Star Trek Reboot universe (Come With Me) and the movie Doom. The one with Karl Urban. I hope that if you haven't seen the movie, this story will still makes sense. 
> 
> If you want to see a clip of John Grimm and his sister, there's one at...
> 
> John's sister trying to save him at...  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtYk7LMAuec  
> The first couple of minutes or so is with John and his sister. The rest is just John being a bad ass monster killer.
> 
> If you haven't seen the movie, this may help get you in the mood. : )

  

**Hope**

**By Sarah Problem**

 

**STARFLEET MEDICAL**

**CLASSIFIED**

**RED-A-001 Security Clearance - EYES ONLY**

**NEED TO KNOW - RESTRICTED**

**Secure Level:** Red-A-001

**Secure Copy:** Dr. Leonard Horatio McCoy (2261.215 - DNA signature accepted)

**Serial Number:** TR756-2767RRB

**Last Assignment:** CMO of Starship Enterprise, NCC-1701 [2258.42 to 2261.210]

**Need to Know Basis:** Assignment to Phoenix Complex, Mars, as of 2261.210

**Assignment Title:** Medical Research Team, Senior Member

**Assignment Date:** 2261.210

**Duration:** Indefinite

**Personal Status:** Married. Unaccompanied Assignment.

**Spouse:** Captain James Tiberius Kirk [SN SC937-0176CDC] - Enterprise, NCC-1701

             Secondary Next of Kin - Doctor David Andrew McCoy (Father) - Deneva

**By Order of:** Admiral Robert Bellamy, Starfleet Medical, Head of Research and Acquisitions

**Basic History and Summary**

**Olduvai, Mars**

**Location:** Phoenix Complex - Olduvai Archeological Site, Hargraves Crater, Mars

**Discovered:** Stardate 2026.85

" _In the year 2026 archaeologists working in the Nevada desert discovered a portal to an ancient city on Mars. They call this portal the ARK (1). Twenty years later we're still struggling to understand why it was built, and what happened to the civilization that built it_."

\- 2046, Dr. Samantha Joanna Grimm, Forensic Archaeologist, Union Aerospace Corp.

 

_(1) Note: The technology of the ARK was not well understood at the time, although used to secretly transport UAC scientists between Earth and the secret Olduvai base on Mars. While in use, the ARK was studied and an attempt to back engineer the technology was made by UAC with no successful outcome. No information on the alien artifacts, or Olduvai's existence, was released to the general public. At the time of the loss of contact with Olduvai in 2046, few inroads had been made into the alien technology itself. UAC continued its research on the subject, and it wasn't until 2118 that Emory Erickson 'invented' the Transporter after being supplied with reverse engineered ARK technology._

**Lost connection:** Stardate 2046.132

Virus outbreak, unknown cause. All infected cases terminal.

Self-containment and sterilization of the Union Aerospace Corporation Research Facility, Nevada, by nuclear detonation enacted as a failsafe option.

Connection with Olduvai, Mars, lost due to the destruction of the ARK Portal on Earth. Reported destruction of Olduvai by RRTS Special Forces, unconfirmed, 2046.

**Unknown Outbreak of Virus, 2046** : Dr. Samantha Grimm (2), (2019.85 to 2102.137) sole survivor of incident. A total of 126 people, including 85 Olduvai staff, 34 ARK support staff, and 8 Rapid Response Tactical Squad sent in to Retrieve and Contain, were lost.

At the first sign of outbreak, with six scientists missing, Dr. Samantha Grimm was charged with retrieving and recovering UAC data from the Anthropology, Forensic Archaeology, and Genetics computers while accompanied by RRTS Marine support.(3) Dr. Grimm was unable to complete the mission. All un-downloaded data lost. All secure data in UAC ARK Portal, Nevada, lost. Routine transfer of data to UAC computers, Washington, occurred every 30 days, leaving a total of 26 work days in science labs lost. Dr. Grimm reported all deaths due to mutation by virus and efforts to contain such. Dr. Grimm kept in isolation for two years at UAC facility after the event. No signs of contagion or virus antibodies ever manifested. Retired 2048.

Dr. Grimm professed no knowledge of where the virus originated or how it spread. Diagnosed with Traumatic Amnesia, due to the earlier events and death of her brother, little information was obtained about the incident.

**Conclusion:** Dr. Grimm's Security Level would not have given her normal access to the Genetics or Weapons Labs, and as such, Dr. Grimm's knowledge of what had transpired would be limited. Trauma due to the loss of her brother, and the Olduvai and ARK station, contributed to permanent loss of memory.

No bodies, either on Olduvai or the Nevada site were ever recovered. Dr. Samantha Grimm died in 2102.137 from malignant fibrous histiocytoma. Cause undetermined.

 

_(2) Note: Dr. Samantha Grimm's parents, Doctors David and Maria Grimm, were first two archaeologists sent by UAC to start work on the Olduvai Archeological site, along with their twin son and daughter, age seven. Both parents died in tunnel collapse of Stardate 2027.82. Samantha Joanna Grimm and her twin brother, John Samuel Grimm, evacuated to Earth and custody awarded to their paternal uncle._

_(3) Staff Sgt. John Samuel Grimm (AKA 'Reaper'), Dr. Samantha Grimm's twin brother, was among the RRTS Special Forces response to Olduvai in 2046. Although the siblings were reported to be estranged at the time of the outbreak, Staff Sgt. John S. Grimm was credited with saving the life of his sister by protecting her during the Olduvai outbreak, and safely escorting her to the Nevada site before the ARK Portal to Olduvai was destroyed, and helping his sister escape to the surface of the Nevada site before the nuclear fail-safe response was triggered. Staff Sgt. John S. Grimm reported killed by virus infected victims before he could escape with Dr. Grimm._

 

**First Martian colony established:** Utopia Planitia Colony established Stardate 2069.79. No information was given to the new government of the existence, or location, of Olduvai by UAC Corp.

**Reopening of Facility:** Stardate 2125.347 - First level of destroyed Olduvai facility discovered during Mars terraforming. Dubbed "Phoenix".

During preliminary terraforming of Mars, UAC claimed land on Mars as part of their contribution to the terraforming project. The exact location of Olduvai was kept secret, and the facility re-established once the area was re-screened and cleared by new, protective bio-agents. Due to unforeseen seismic quakes caused by terraforming issues, and original destruction of the Olduvai base, an estimated 99.76 % of the Olduvai compound and archeological site were collapsed and destroyed.

While the original archeological site of Olduvai was located and excavated, no new examples of the alien civilization have been uncovered. No confirmed identification of the species made, although various theories remain. (4) Due to the age and fossilized condition of the original finds, it has been theorized that the seismic activity during the Martian terraforming destroyed any remnants of the ancient city. No new sites have been discovered, as of this date.

_(4) Note: For findings of Archeological teams up to Stardate 2046.132, see Special Report 2973B3, (Codename "Seeders") **Security Level Red-A-004** _

**Starfleet Acquisition:** Stardate 2201.245

Due to legal dismantling of Union Aerospace Corp on Stardate 2201.23, all resources confiscated by Federation Mandate after UAC's role in the Eugenics Wars, and confirmed illegal research into human gene manipulations, was discovered. [War Crimes Tribunal Case 987435Y-63] Criminal charges against all members of UAC still living at the time was held by Federation Courts. Fines and prison time administered. The Olduvai site was subsequently turned over to Starfleet Medical, for further research into the history, and cause of, virus outbreak.

**Phoenix Complex Mission Statement:** Due to lack of information on the virus that mandated destruction of both Olduvai and the ARK complex, and the lack of certain identification of an ancient alien presence on Mars, pre-human history, the re-opening of the Olduvai dig is authorized. Codename "Phoenix". All information on the alien presence to be collected as it becomes available and sent to **Starfleet Medical, Research and Acquisitions**. All information on the work of the original UAC Olduvai research teams to be uncovered and reconstructed when possible, copies to be sent to **Starfleet Medical, Research and Acquisitions**. All information on the origination of the virus, its cause and spread, to be recovered and sent to **Starfleet Medical, Research and Acquisitions** for further research into the virus, it's causes and counter agents.

All reports limited to **Starfleet Medical, Research and Acquisitions** , Security Level **Red-A-004** personnel only.

**By Order of:** Admiral Robert Bellamy

Starfleet Medical, Head of Research and Acquisitions

 

**Basic History of Olduvai, Mars**

**End**

 

***

 

Doctor Leonard McCoy once again read over the report on his PADD as he walked the halls of the Phoenix Complex, Mars. He hadn't been impressed with the completeness of the report given to him upon his arrival to his new assignment and was not impressed with the re-reading of it. Reading the basic history was like reading a bad movie script. Too much was left out to get a complete picture.

The foot traffic inside the Phoenix Complex was sparse at this time of night. Built on top of the ruins of the old Olduvai archeological dig, at the top edge of the Hargraves crater, the building that had originally housed the old UCA research facility was nothing that would interest anyone outside of its confines. Except for the fact that it was the only building in hundreds of miles in any direction. It was an old-fashioned, three-story dome, with hangers for ships and shuttles off to one side. Built in the days before terraforming had brought more oxygen to Mars, along with some ice asteroids that were redirected to the red planet to provide more moisture, the complex had the looks of the older colonies. It was round, scuffed by old windstorms, and coated with the now frozen-sticky red sand. Adding oxygen and water had done little to warm the world up.

It was not a heavily visited site by scientists, and never by civilians, as restricted as it was. The view outside was dull compared to other locations, the crater one of thousands. There were no roads to it, and people didn't just wander Mars in search of something to see. Being the first planet to be terraformed by Humans, the lower valleys had a dense enough oxygen mix to allow humans to go about freely without environmental suits. As long as you didn't mind the near-arctic surface temperatures, and those areas still off-limits as sanctuaries for those tundra-loving species Mars was attempting to relocate. Those sites were, at least, marginally interesting, where Phoenix was not. Far enough from Martian Colony 3 and Utopia Planitia to be of little interest to either colony, as long as Starfleet paid their land taxes like anyone else, no one really thought about it anymore. The governments of Mars certainly knew it was there, but civilians would never find it on a map. It was just another restricted area, at Starfleet's request.

So, when the Starfleet Doctor walked among the most sensitive of Phoenix's hallways to those deep underground tunnels that led to the re-dig of the original Olduvai Complex, he was not stopped. Those who were still around and active, those unlucky night-shift scientists and maintenance employees, were too busy with their own work to bother to meet the new research member. If they even knew who he was. For most of them, security concerns inside the complex weren't part of their jobs. If you were in the Phoenix Complex, and had access to the halls, tunnels and dig sites of the old complex, you must belong there. That's what all the DNA security systems were for.

Dressed in his Starfleet Blues, his medkit on his belt and his new, secured PADD in his hands, Doctor McCoy walked casually down the hall in the Olduvai Recovery area toward the Recovery, Reconstruction, and Research lab. He had just about gotten to the main doors of the lab when someone called out after him.

"Doctor McCoy?" Carolyn Snyder called from down the hallway. "Sir?"

Doctor McCoy stopped, and turned, a smile on his face. "Miss Snyder, I thought you would be in bed by now. What's keeping such a lovely thing as yourself up this early in the morning?" With a gentle hand on her arm, he steered her aside, out of the main hallway and to a small nook carved out of the sandy Mars rock.

Carolyn Snyder, newly graduated from Starfleet's medical program and assigned as a Med-Tech, smiled back at him. They had met earlier in the day, when he had arrived at the Phoenix Complex. She had been among the medical research team that had welcomed him to his new assignment. She had, like several of the others, heard about the Starfleet Doctor not only from the news about the now-famous exploits of the Starfleet Flagship, the Enterprise, but from all the tall tales about their Academy years. She'd never really believed those stories. Not really. Carolyn had been surprised at how sweet the man was, and how he'd seemed to take an interest in her. Hardly anyone on Phoenix had. Snyder touched her hair self-consciously at his attention. He _was_ a very good-looking, if married, man.

"Oh, just finishing up some tests we had running," she said with a smile and a shrug. "There were some new samples brought up from Olduvai's Genetics and Archeology lab areas. What was left of it anyway."

"I knew they're working on those areas," McCoy admitted. "But I've yet to see what's been discovered recently. It's been over 200 years. I didn't think that there'd be anything left to find anymore. Not even DNA could have lasted that long in Mars' old atmosphere."

"I know! That's why everyone's been so excited lately. We hardly find anything that may have to do with the research done at the old base. When we do find something, it's huge news."

"So, I've heard," McCoy said with a smile, moving to stand closer to the young woman. "I've heard they've even found what could be some old bits of the main computers. Bet they're chomping at the bit to see what they can pull off of those."

"Oh, they've found more than bits," Snyder said excitedly. She leaned forward to whisper. "They think they may have found some of the original data drives, with some Genetics lab information that hadn't been updated before the complex was destroyed. Plus, the crushed remains of the computers. They're going to send those to Earth, to see if the old technology can be decoded and read."

"Ah," McCoy said, stepping closer into Snyder's personal space, who blushed at his nearness. "So, they think they're getting closer to discovering what happened here, all those years ago?"

"They hope so," she said, keeping her voice low. "Doctors Venor and Wallhalla think that that last missing month of research is the key to what happened. They know something went wrong, and the Marines were sent in, but all contact was lost after that. They think that whatever started the chain reaction that destroyed Olduvai was a monumental breakthrough in genetic science. And that someone actually destroyed the whole complex, and killed all those people, to stop it from getting out! There's even some talk that the ancient remains found by the original team might have been from The Preservers!"

"Now, that _would_ be something!" McCoy agreed, looking thoughtful. "Especially considering we've never actually found traces of them anywhere else. I can see why everyone's excited about new finds. Better than coming up empty-handed year after year. At least Starfleet Medical can use this site for other research as well. I guess that helps pay the bills."

"Yes. That's why Doctors Venor and Wallhalla were thrilled to see that you'd been assigned to our team. Not a lot of Doctors have the experience or security clearance for this job. And, frankly," she smiled shyly at him, "I'm surprised you signed up for planet-side duty. Now that you're married to Captain Kirk and all."

"Yeah, well, he has his career and I have mine," McCoy said with a shrug. "Can't live in each other's pockets if we want to get ahead."

"But, won't you be lonely without him?" She asked coyly.

McCoy leaned a little closer, his voice low and sultry. "Well, don't tell anyone, but we have an open marriage. We both sort of... get around that way, if you catch my drift."

"Oh?" Snyder's blush deepened.

"Yeah, in fact, I don't have much to check up on for tomorrow. Why don't you come to the lab with me? We could go to my new quarters afterward, and you can help me... unpack my unmentionables?"

"Doctor McCoy!" Snyder said with a laugh. "Really!"

"It's Leo, please. And you wouldn't want me to feel unwelcome, now would you?"

Finding she was thrilled with the idea, and the way his hazel eyes and randy smile pulled at her, she nodded. "All right. But neither Doctor--"

"I don't kiss and tell, Honey," McCoy said with a smirk, putting his arm around her shoulder and steering her back to the main hallway. "Don't you worry about that."

They walked down the rest of the hallway and when they came to the Recovery, Reconstruction and Research lab McCoy presented his left hand for the DNA scanner.

The computer voice was crisp and professional. "Welcome, Doctor McCoy."

Technician Carolyn Snyder presented her hand and was also admitted.

The room was large, as extra reinforcements had been brought in to hold up the rock walls and the tons of Mars soil above them. The size of a small warehouse, there were labs set up against the front walls. A small door to a kitchen area was on one side and another door to a vast array of storage compartments behind another locked and sealed door. All was white and sterile. Even the small bits and pieces currently under study were locked safely away for the night.

"Say, they don't happen to have this whole area under surveillance, do they?" McCoy asked her, tugging her close.

She laughed. "Just the lab tables." She slipped her arms around his waist. "They're interested in the results, not the workers."

"So, you bring a lot of boyfriends down here, do you?"

"Just the ones who can get past the scanner," she said with a grin.

Arm around her, he leaned down and kissed her. She leaned into it, enjoying the warmth of his lips against her own. Before she could slip her arms around his shoulders she felt a sting on her neck. When she slipped into unconsciousness, her eyes rolling up in her head, Doctor McCoy caught her and laid her body gently on the ground.

He moved quickly. Taking the ring off his left hand he gripped it tightly in his fist and placed it on top of the main computer, then set about locking the door from the inside. He didn't want to be interrupted.

He'd studied the layout of the storage area and knew which containers were locked, and which weren't. Grabbing an empty storage box from under one of the tables, he opened the storage room, giving it his hand for DNA identification. He felt relief that his clearance had been put into place before he'd even arrived. Once inside the warehouse he made a beeline for his pre-memorized containers, tossing the contents haphazardly into the box.

It wasn't until he got to the last container on his mental list that he paused. Inside were three cracked and scarred data drives: blue, yellow and green. He paused for a moment, memories threatening to overwhelm him. Then he roughly pushed them aside and took the three drives and dropped them into the box as well.

Once back in the lab area he headed for the small kitchen and the recycler. It only took a few minutes to open the back of the standard device and disconnect the data collection program. It was an afterthought to the machine's purpose, after all, which was to break down any non-living item into its basic components, and store the disassembled atoms and molecules into the bio-matter storage bin, to be recycled in the replicators. Now it would disintegrate whatever was placed inside, store the base matter, and not even record the process. No one would ever be sure it had even been used.

Then, bit by bit, he fed each artifact recovered from Olduvai into the recycler. He worked quickly, placing just enough of the recovered pieces of computers, data pads, notebooks and papers into the recycler to make sure it wasn't overloaded. That nothing would survive the disintegration. At the very last, when all that was left was the remains of the three data drives, he paused for a moment. His mind going back to the last person on Olduvai who had handled them.

Then he opened one and removed the tiny data-drive chip. Replacing it with a copy, he then slipped the data drive into his pocket. He then put the other two drives and the original chip inside the machine and recycled them.

Looking at the time on the wall and glancing at the technician sleeping on the floor, he decided he had time for another trip to the storage room.

His last act before he left the Recovery, Reconstruction and Research Lab, was to remove the wedding ring from the top of the computer and toss it into the recycler as well. He had to trust that its job was done and the computer's stored data drives were scrambled. He kept the PADD with him.

The walk back through the reconstruction of Olduvai and up into the Phoenix complex was uneventful. After all, he didn't seem to be carrying anything that didn't belong to him. Nothing smuggled out from below. Who would do that? And he had a few hours yet before the day-shift would find the groggy, but unharmed, technician sleeping on their floor. In his newly assigned room, where he'd never even bothered to unpack, he dressed in his environmental gear. He covered his head and face for warmth and convenience. With the palm print of a specifically selected individual formed on the palm of his gloves, he fooled the security computers into thinking he was one of the pilots assigned to the base. One with permission to make the cold, above-ground trek to the shuttle bay. There, he used the gloves to enter and start a shuttle that had been sitting all prepped for someone else's use.

Once in orbit, a non-descript trade vessel that waited for him opened its bay doors and he slipped the small shuttle inside. Then it was out of the Phoenix shuttle, which would permanently disappear, and into one of his own. Once inside he could finally relax. With Mars a thriving metropolis of its own and housing the Federation's most extensive construction yards, it suffered from the bane of every heavily populated planet. Traffic. There were ships of all kinds, from all areas, constantly in and out of Mars' orbit. Thousands of them. He was now a needle in a haystack.

He had three days on the shuttle to himself. There was no need to contact anyone. No need to let anyone know he'd been able to do what he set out to do. When the Phoenix base woke up and found everything they'd recovered from Olduvai in the last 30 years gone, the shit would hit the fan. The general public would never hear of it. Starfleet would never let a word slip. But the right people would know that he'd been successful. They'd know exactly what had happened to the artifacts. And the resulting shit storm that Starfleet would start in their search for the perpetrator would be worth the price.

God, did he hope so.

John Grimm took off the environment gear and then the Starfleet uniform underneath. He peeled off the fake fingerprints that would lead Starfleet's investigation nowhere, then sighed and looked into the small mirror set inside the ship's locker. He saw the face he'd worked for 215 years to cover, color, and alter with varying degrees of success. Only rarely had he allowed himself to see the man he'd been born look back at him from the mirror.

A face that his 4th great-grandson, one of his only two surviving descendants, shared with him. Even down to the hazel eyes, dark hair, and sarcastic smile. The face and identity of a man John had stolen to get inside and wipe out Olduvai for good.

Leonard Horatio McCoy had had the misfortune to have been born an unintentional clone. He was John's centuries younger identical twin, even to sharing almost the same DNA. A situation that had almost killed Leonard McCoy prematurely. An unlucky twist of fate from having fourth cousins marry and from being descended from a man whose own DNA was foreign, alien and unnatural. A DNA curse that wouldn't let John die. Even staying out of his descendant's lives hadn't saved them from John's curse. John had read the reports on Leonard McCoy over and over through the past year. It had only been another twist of fate, this one lucky, that had saved McCoy from the death sentence John's curse had bequeathed the good Doctor.

And now, John had had no choice but to interfere in the poor kid's life one more time.

"I'm sorry, Leonard," John said softly to the mirror, wishing he could say it face to face with the person who needed to hear it. "I didn't mean to fuck up your life any more than I had to. But it couldn't be helped. If you only knew... They say you're a good man. I can only hope you'd understand."

John shook his head, feeling the adrenalin from days of planning and being undercover catch up to him. He may be all but immortal, but he did get tired and hungry. And the kind of weariness he felt had no word.

He flopped down in his bunk, in his own ship, finally feeling at home in a universe that didn't really allow him one.

Maybe, after he'd slept, he'd feel less guilty for the trouble he'd aimed McCoy's way without really wanting to.

But he couldn't help but feel relieved that Olduvai was now a bit less of a danger.

Now, there were only a few other loose ends he wanted to tie up before he confronted the biggest danger to the universe that Olduvai had left behind.

His own existence.

***

 

Admiral Joshua Oberts, Head of Starfleet Security, played a vid in a loop which showed Doctor Leonard McCoy checking in to Olduvai, attending the welcome briefings, eating in the mess with the other researchers, then his late-night trip down to the Recovery, Reconstruction, and Research lab with the young technician accompanying him. Then, almost an hour later, leaving the room alone. They knew how he left. Only one ship had left the Phoenix Complex that night and it had yet to be recovered.

"I tell you, that _can't_ be him!" Admiral Bellamy, Starfleet Medical, Head of Research and Acquisitions, strode back and forth in Oberts' office, the agitation in his voice and pacing evident. "He's on Mars, attending mandatory medical conferences and lectures in order to keep updated on his license to practice. With the Enterprise in the Terran Drydock Facility for eight weeks it's the best time for McCoy to get caught up. The Captain is with him, even now."

"His husband can only verify his location for a day, at most," Oberts said, watching the vid as it went through another loop. "Kirk has been on Earth most of the week."

Bellamy shrugged. "McCoy should be on all kinds of vid feeds during his stay on Utopia. I _sent_ him there. He'll _be_ there."

Oberts tapped on the extra-secure PADD in front of him. "You also transferred him to Olduvai."

Bellamy swore under his breath. " _You_ are Security. You tell _me_ how someone forged orders from me. I've been trying to get McCoy to Olduvai for years. I'd think I'd have remembered finally getting him there."

"I have computer forensics looking at it now. We'll trace it down." Oberts eyes still on the vid, leaned forward. "I'm going to say it. I believe it's Grimm."

Bellamy stopped his pacing, looking at Oberts uncomfortably. "It could be a shape-shifter, for heaven's sake. Facial surgery. An illusion loop to fool the vids. Some sort of telepathic cover-up. Any of that is a thousand times more likely than believing Grimm has been alive all these years. You've become paranoid, Oberts," Bellamy lowered his voice. "Ever since you inherited Section 31 from Marcus, you've been seeing ghosts. And you've gotten worse since McCoy suffered that attack by the Quarlians. Just because his DNA pinged an old file in your system while they were fighting to keep him alive, and it dragged up some ancient information --"

"John Grimm's DNA, from his RRTS Special Forces file," Oberts interrupted angrily, typing up the top-secret file so it appeared on the wall by the still-running vid-loop. "A File over two-hundred years old, with a picture to match your McCoy feature for feature! Don't tell me you haven't been trying to get McCoy to Olduvai because you _don't_ think he's going to be the one to finally unravel the mystery. You, yourself, half suspect he's Grimm, with his whole history made up to cover his entry into Starfleet. You continually brag how brilliant he is. Maybe living for a couple hundred years will do that for a man."

Bellamy huffed with disbelief. " _Don't_ tell me you didn't run McCoy's whole _existence_ through the ringer when you first got interested, Oberts. If you'd even had _one_ real hint that any of his past was made up, you'd have picked him up and had him in your rat labs by now, draining him dry for the lost secrets of Olduvai. Genetic flukes happen. Maybe they're related. You _know_ how much information went missing during the war, how many families torn up and lost. Maybe this John Grimm had a few bastard kids before he hit Olduvai and McCoy just inherited a repeat DNA cluster. It's not impossible. We've both seen much stranger things happen for no reason at all."

"Then tell me how, Bellamy, someone would _know_ to use Doctor McCoy's identity to get into Olduvai and steal those data disks, just before we could get them transferred to Earth? Why chose _him_ , when they could have faked _anyone's_ orders from you to get them through the front door? This is _not_ a coincidence!"

Bellamy sighed as he looked at John Grimm's old 2-D picture on the wall. There was no arguing the resemblance between McCoy and Grimm. They could have been the same person. "I don't know, other than the staff knew I wanted him there. I'd talked about him. So they didn't question it when he showed up."

"And he'd shown up with _McCoy's_ DNA. At exactly the right time to get to the disks before they left the Complex. We've got moles in _both_ of our houses, Bellamy," Oberts said angrily. "But yours especially. Even if we don't ask _who_ that McCoy really is, we have to ask _how he knew_ when to hit the base."

Bellamy didn't say anything to that. He couldn't. The faked orders had seemed to come from his office. They'd been able to trace the transmissions back that far. As head of Starfleet Security, Admiral Oberts had the best to work with.

"I've got men on Mars. They're on their way to take McCoy in on charges," Oberts said. "And I don't want you bitching about it in public. We need to be united on this."

"Even though you don't really think he did it, or believe that he has the artifacts."

Oberts smiled grimly. "If he does, we'll find out from him, one way or the other. But if this really is John Grimm on those vid feeds, and if he's got any ties to the real Leonard McCoy, maybe we can use McCoy as bait."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"We let it be known that Doctor McCoy is being arrested on as many charges as we can drum up against him. Maybe Grimm will come after him and we can flush him out that way."

"And if Grimm doesn't give a shit? Whoever this is, the thief could be halfway to the Romulans or Klingon Empires by now! A very rich man, if they don't just take the artifacts and kill him."

"If we can't find the thief, Grimm or no Grimm, there's someone who can. In fact, I don't see him doing anything else."

Bellamy blinked in surprise as Oberts' meaning hit him. "Kirk? You think Admiral Roberts is going to let him take off after this thief while the Enterprise's in drydock?"

Oberts smirked. "I doubt very much Kirk is going to be asking permission to clear his husband's name, do you? Kirk is a rogue and we both know it. He won't need permission."

"You're going to blackmail him. Let him know the only way to clear McCoy of charges is if he finds the thief himself." Bellamy shook his head. "We'll lose _both_ of them this way. They know you're playing them over this and they'll walk, if they survive it."

"Good. Kill two birds with one stone," Oberts said with a shrug. "Since it's clear we can't trust Kirk to work with Section 31, now or in the future, then best to force him out now. Between McCoy's charges, and anything we can pin later on Kirk, they're both out."

"Damn it, Oberts!" Bellamy objected. "You don't know the type of mind you're throwing away with McCoy. I've been after him for so long--"

"Get your priorities straight, Bellamy!" Oberts snapped, his voice low and dangerous. "You made your choice of who you are going to work for when I offered you a way into Section 31. We can make you Surgeon General, when **I** decide you've earned it. But you take _my_ orders. Just remember that! You back me up on pressing charges against McCoy and we continue dredging the whole system for the thief until we find him. If it's not Grimm, then we'll get rid of McCoy and Kirk in a way they can't recover from. If it _is_ Grimm, and either of us finds him, then one way or the other we find out exactly what was on Olduvai that can keep a man alive, functioning, and youthful even longer than the Augments could achieve. We are not letting this secret slip out from under us again! Understood?"

Bellamy sighed. "Understood."

"Good. Get going and see what your people can recover from those damaged computer files in the lab. If this all goes to shit I want _something_ saved from it. Because we both know that there's probably nothing left down there to find."

Bellamy nodded and headed for the door.

After Bellamy stormed through Oberts' front office and out into the hall, Oberts' personal secretary took a very small listening device out of his ear and crushed it between his fingers. Then he pushed a button to signal his relief, so he could take a short break. There was someone he needed to talk to, right away.

***

 

 

Captain James T. Kirk sat quietly next to his husband during their third medical lecture of the day in one of the many large lecture halls the Martian colony boasted of. He was trying to keep himself quiet and entertained while McCoy attended these mandatory lectures on Utopia. Since the Enterprise was in Terran dry dock for upgrades, most of the crew was off on vacation and personal days. Some were taking extra training, like McCoy and the rest of the medical staff. And some, like engineering, would be working pretty much full schedules during the next few weeks. Jim had done his week of meetings and check-ins with the Brass on Earth while McCoy had been on Mars. Now Jim had a couple of weeks off before he had to be back on ship, checking the upgrades. McCoy had one more day of lectures and meetings and then he'd also get a couple of weeks off.

So, instead of sitting on his thumbs on the Enterprise, or wasting time sightseeing alone on Earth, Jim had caught a shuttle to Mars to join his husband on these last few days.

And they'd been boring lectures. But staying alone in his hotel would be worse. He'd seen enough of Mars in his younger years to not have much interest in seeing it again. So, tagging along with his husband had been his only real choice. At least they were both allowed civilian clothing during the lectures. Which was a blessing as far as Jim was concerned. They could both walk around Utopia and not be recognized or stopped. And they could pretend they were already on vacation.

Jim had given up on reading a book and had taken to looking himself up on the news-feeds. It wasn't something he usually did. Not since he was a kid and had questions about the Kelvin that no one seemed to want to answer. When he was young, the news-feeds had covered him once a year, on the Kelvin's Memorial Day. Just fluff stories about what the 'Kelvin Baby' was up to. Then they pretty much gave up and forgot about him by the time he was ten. Which was fine with Jim. There were a lot of years between then and his entry into the Academy that he was just as glad hadn't been made public at the time. Being a repeat offender sorta stuck with you that way. He was glad he'd been able to make a new life for himself before it hit the news-feeds. Some of his old mug-shots were pretty bad, he had to admit. Now when he saw his bad-boy past brought up, he could just shrug and move on.

History was what it was. No use spending a lot of time with regret. Or he'd never get anything else done.

_If I could only go back and have a serious talk with myself,_ Jim thought with an amused smile. _Tell that kid that he'd find love and a purpose even greater than himself when he grew up. Although, he'd probably just have ignored the older me and done what he wanted anyway. I guess some of us have to find our paths the hard way. No one ever really believes they'll find love, until they find it._

Jim glanced with affection at McCoy, who was next to him in these hard lecture hall seats, taking furious notes on some kind of dental lecture Jim wasn't paying attention to. That he'd found the love of his life, and that the guy actually loved him back just as fierce, still amazed him. He would never have believed it as a teenager.

What burned him was the 'real' stories that didn't have an ounce of truth in them. He understood the revisionist history about the Narada, and the choice to keep Ambassador Spock's true identity a secret. The guy deserved to get on with his life. And heaven only knew that New Vulcan needed him, his leadership, and his foreknowledge of what would and wouldn't work for the new society they were building. But the whole story of 'The Vengeance' and its crash landing into San Francisco had been fabricated into nonsense for the public. All those lives lost, on his ship and on Earth, and they twist it to become a massive structural weakness with the new design and incompatible warp failures, rather than Marcus and his Section 31 dreams of starting a new war. Sure, it made the Enterprise look good, as they'd been reported to have tried to stop the Vengeance's mad, unstoppable rush to Earth when its 'breaks failed'. Only to have almost been destroyed themselves.

So much of it was covered up to protect Marcus and his 'non-existent' section. It made Jim wonder how much of the Kelvin's destruction was the truth and how much was a public lie.

But he tried not to think about what he couldn't change. Looking down at his PADD, he saw another scandal-sheet article about him dating some huge vid-star that Jim had only vaguely heard of. Since the Enterprise had arrived for dry dock eight days ago, and things had been pretty quiet across the galaxy. A lot of news-feeds had dredged up stories about the Enterprises' adventures. Then when those stories had run out they focused on the crew. That had turned up some really weird stuff since most of his crew were pretty private people. Crew families didn't talk much outside of the Fleet. But then the feeds seemed to focus on Jim as some sort of celebrity. There were all kinds of rumors about him, who he was seeing, where he lived while on Earth, and all the hidden families he had on several planets. Apparently, he had a lot of kids hidden around in different nooks and crannies of the universe.

Flipping through his own mentions in the news-feeds, he tried to find the humor in it. Some of it was really funny if he didn't take it personally. But what surprised him was that very few of the rumors had Jim married, let alone to anyone else on the Enterprise. Curiosity and boredom had him looking up McCoy's name.

Nothing showed up. Anywhere. Not even linked with Jim.

_Hell, that's odd. Even the ship's crew-list is available if people want to dig through Starfleet's public files. It's old, old news and hardly accurate by the time it's listed, but he's on it. Yet no one's followed him up for rumors and tid bits on slow news days? Even David is there in the news-feeds, as quitting his job as the head of the largest hospital in the southern US. And some even list his long line of accomplishments. Says he retired but nothing after that._

On a whim, Jim dug around through the older news archives and pulled up the story of the shuttle accident that killed McCoy's mother when he was twelve. The one that almost killed McCoy himself. Once Jim found it, he set a loop that followed all links and collected them so he could read all the follow ups, including the official reports of the accident. He frowned when he read the passenger list.

_He's not listed as a survivor. Strange._

Jim pulled up the medical school McCoy had graduated from. He was there, listed correctly in his graduating year. Top honors. He was listed as graduating from his high school. So that info was there.

_Huh. So, some things are there, some aren't._

Not that he minded McCoy being left out of all the gossip-mongering and personal stories the news-feeds were pulling out and replaying. But with all the attention Jim seemed to be drawing, it was just strange that McCoy pretty much didn't exist for them.

_Hell, if they only knew about us, we'd be all over the press. Guess journalistic reporting isn't what it used to be._

On a whim, Jim flipped back to McCoy's graduation announcement from high school, curious to see if they had graduation pictures. Finding the link, Jim clicked on McCoy's name. The picture of a good looking, dark haired kid came up. Jim stared at it. That wasn't McCoy. Close, but he'd seen all of McCoy's pictures from growing up, and this kid under McCoy's name wasn't him.

Jim reached over and tapped McCoy's arm as he was taking notes. McCoy turned to look at him, an eyebrow up in question.

Jim turned the PADD over so McCoy could see it. McCoy squinted at it and shrugged in confusion, apparently not understanding what Jim wanted him to see.

Jim pointed at the name at the bottom. 'Leonard H. McCoy'.

McCoy took the PADD, looked at it for a second, then flipped back the page to see where Jim had gotten the picture. Then he flipped to the picture again.

"Huh," McCoy muttered. He looked at Jim, shrugged. He handed it back, going back to taking notes.

_Well, someone somewhere fucked up that database. Weird. I wonder if we should go back and check his other stuff._

Just then the lecturer finished and those around them started to stand and make their way down to the exit. McCoy took a minute to finish his notes, giving everyone else in the lecture hall time to leave.

" _You_ should have been listening to this one," McCoy said, said with a shake of his head as he saved his notes on his PADD.

"It was dental stuff," Jim said with a shrug. "How interesting can dental stuff be?"

"You didn't catch the part about the Black Dirigitum Gum Infection?" McCoy shook his head. "Where the landing crew on Dirigitum Two landed, took readings for the basic survey, all the while breathing in microbes that dissolve calcium in necrotic tissue? Only, it didn't care that those humans on the survey team weren't actually dead natives."

"Hey, weren't we supposed to do a survey of Dirigitum Two a few months ago?" Jim asked, remembering when they'd been sidetracked from surveying that system to checking out distress beacon light-years in the other direction. The survey had been reassigned.

"Yup," McCoy said, standing, stretching, and looking around the now empty room. "That was supposed to have been _us_. Turns out the humans in the crew that breathed in the microbes? Invaded their teeth, melting them down into black goo. The CMO barely caught it and neutralized it before it had eaten its way down to their jawbones. If it had gotten a good hold there, it would have just followed their skeletons and dissolved their bones, one by one." McCoy shook his head. "They actually would have collapsed into a puddle of bone-less tissue if it hadn't been stopped. Of course, they'd have been dead long before that, their skulls turned to mush and their brains going every which way without support."

Shocked, Jim stared at McCoy. "No kidding! The bio-filters didn't catch it?"

"No kidding. And no, they didn't. They will now. It's part of our software upgrade Scotty's getting for the transporter software."

"That would have been us?"

"Well, _you_ , anyway," McCoy huffed as he turned to walk to the end of the aisle and down the steps to the exit. "You and your _'I wanna see!'_ whine you give me about these new places. How often do I hear that? _'It's a brand-new world, Bones! Don't argue with me all the time on landing_ _parties!_ '"

"Oh," Jim said. "Well, someone has to be first on a planet. I can't send someone down if I'm not willing to go myself."

"So, you'll _still_ whine at me when I state my heartfelt, and data-supported, objections." McCoy turned on the steps and looked up. His expression one of long suffering resignation.

"Uh, yeah," Jim admitted with a shrug. "Sorry about that."

"No, you're not."

"Well, no, not really." Jim gave McCoy his most charming smile.

McCoy just rolled his eyes and turned back to continue down the steps. "Then, next time you visit a strange world and it's your dick turning black and falling off, I don't want to hear any whining. Just suck it up and let me deal with it."

"I _don't_ whine when I'm hurt," Jim protested to McCoy's back as he followed him to the exit. "Just when I'm recuperating. Medbay is deadly boring. You know that. Besides, I trust you to save my dick, or build me a new one if it comes to that. I'll start a list of what I want the replacement to be like, just in case."

At the exit, McCoy turned to him, eyes showing amusement even through his frown. "Maybe I should just leave you without one. Teach you a lesson about being _careful_ on new planets."

Jim grinned at him. "But you'd love me anyway. Dick or no dick."

McCoy just sighed as he gave up the argument and shook his head as he walked close enough to the exit door to have it swish open. " _Yes_ , I would. Don't take that as permission to lose your dick."

Jim laughed, knowing that he'd won that round. Not that McCoy didn't have a point. Even Spock fought him about the Captain joining an away team. It was just... sometimes he just knew he had to be there. And if there was something Jim had learned early, it was to go with his gut.

The hall outside was mostly empty. While McCoy checked his schedule Jim wandered up to the window. As long as the hallway, and three stories tall, the window's view was one of Utopia Planitia itself. A vast lava plain at the north of Mars, it was the largest impact site on the planet, measuring over 3,300 kilometers wide. It had been the landing site of the US Viking 2, which landed in 1976. One of the first two Martian settlements, Utopia was turning into an impressive space port with a growing ship construction business in orbit directly overhead. The terraforming of Mars had gone well as could be expected, with oxygen levels high enough at the lower levels to be breathable by humanoids. People could go outside without environmental suits if they thought they could survive the cold.

But even without the terraforming, Utopia had grown into a large, spread out colony that was home to tens of thousands that lived not only in the older domed areas, but underground as well. One of Jim's first memories of space was on the special shuttles that had taken a group of students to Mars for a visit. That trip had been one of the first things in his young life that he'd really, _really_ wanted to be a part of, and he'd worked his ass off the earn it. As for so many others, Mars had given him a taste of space that he'd never lost, even at his lowest points.

Outside, the still red-black lava-scape stretched into the distance. It looked the same as it had in the history books, even with the terraforming. Unless they could move it to another orbit, or figure a way to keep it warmer, Mars would probably always look the same as it had for millions of years.

_Even when we change some things as much as we can, we really don't make much of an impact. Millions of years from now will anyone even realize we were here?_

McCoy came up behind him, still looking at his PADD. "Good news. The next lecture has been postponed until tomorrow. We can make dinner and still hit that play if you want."

Jim shrugged. "Sure. Where do we want to eat?"

"Got me," McCoy shrugged. "Let's go back to the hotel so I can put my PADD away and freshen up. We can see if there's any good places we haven't hit yet."

The trip back to their hotel took a while. Mars was packed with visitors, both from the ship yards and the medical conference. Since their hotel was on ground level, with a really nice dome view, they had to walk around the maze that was the Upper Level. Filled with paths, trees and Earth vegetation installed during Utopia's makeover about fifty years ago, the once open areas had been turned into complicated paths to create the appearance of there being more internal dome space than there was. It was nice, but made for long walks between some of the locations.

Once they got to their hotel room McCoy made for the 'fresher and Jim went to the desk to find the standard Utopia map of the local amenities.

"I'll just be a minute," McCoy said, ducking back into the main room as Jim flipped through the restaurant lists. "Find someplace nice, not like the last one. If I wanted replicated food I could have eaten here."

"Looking even now," Jim replied distractedly as he looked over what was on offer. He'd had to admit that the first restaurant he'd picked when he arrived hadn't been much of anything.

"Did you mess with my suitcase?" McCoy asked.

Jim looked up just as McCoy lifted the lid of his suitcase and a loud pop filled the room. Jim jolted and rushed up behind McCoy as a cloud of thick dust was blown into McCoy's face. Jim grabbed him and tried to twist him out of, and away from, the cloud. But he could feel McCoy buckle and fall as he lost consciousness. Holding his breath, Jim tried to pull McCoy away and keep him from hitting the floor.

But coming into contact with the cloud numbed Jim inside and out and he lost all control of his body. As his sight, hearing, and coordination went he only knew that he and McCoy were going to be found in a tangled heap on the hotel room floor.

Alive or dead, he didn't know.

He tried to pull McCoy closer, to roll over and shield him from what was happening.

He'd never know if he was successful at that one, last, urge to protect.

 

***

Admiral Oberts, Head of Starfleet Security, felt an overwhelming desire to throw his secure PADD across the room.

"What do you mean, you can't find them?!"

"Our men on Utopia went to make the arrest and found the subject was not in his hotel room. We're checking vids now, but the subject and his husband were reported to have gotten the false notice of the lecture postponement and had headed to their hotel room. They may have slipped by us and gone to a restaurant. But so far neither McCoy's nor Kirk's credit chips have been used. It is now around 3:00 am, Mars time, and they have made no moves on the grid to give us a location."

_Damn! Someone warned them off. Well, they're not going to get very far._

"I want McCoy's arrest warrant posted through all the Starfleet channels. We'll save the public ones as a last resort. But I want every Starfleet Officer from here to the edges of Federation Space and beyond looking for him."

_And maybe we'll get lucky and find his doppelganger instead. That'll solve a lot of our problems, right there._

"Yes, Sir."

"Start a list of all the ships in orbit and where they're headed. I don't care who's systems you have to break into to find the information. And I want McCoy and Kirk's cabin on the Enterprise searched for any information that might help us find where they've gone to ground. And check their crew. All reports are that Kirk runs a closely-knit ship, and has personal friends on board. I don't care where they are now, put tails on them. If Kirk and McCoy contact _any_ of them, I want to know who it is and have them followed. Just make sure the subjects don't know they're being watched. And send a team to watch their family on Deneva. Don't interfere, but keep a close eye on them. "

"Yes, Sir."

Oberts slammed a fist down on the button that ended the conversation.

So far, none of their fail-safes had worked. Equipment that should have been reporting home was silent. DNA-based security systems had failed. And they now had lost their one, remotely possible, tie to the thief's identity.

_But I must be right. If McCoy and Kirk have gone to ground, they must not only have someone feeding them information; they must be involved in the theft._

_And I'm going to find out who, when and where, even if it kills them all._

 

***

 

As reality started to slowly seep into McCoy's brain the first thing he noticed was that he was freezing. Biting cold had seeped into his bones and had stiffened his fingers. All his joints ached with the chill. The second thing he noticed was a banging sound. It was deep, yet muted, making the area around him vibrate. He tried to open his eyes. They felt like they'd been glued shut. When he did get one open, he saw something white and frosted looking in front of his eyes.

_Some kind of_ _container? I'm inside something?_

His thoughts were sluggish and his head hurt. He took a deep breath and realized he was lying on his back. He tried to reach a cold hand up to touch the surface in front of his face when suddenly it disappeared. Light and warm air flooded in around him. He grimaced at the light, closing his eyes against it. The heat was almost too much.

"C'mon, Bones! Wake up! You have to snap out of it."

He felt light taps on his cheeks. Jim was trying to get him to wake up.

_Why am I so cold? I don't like being cold._

The taps against his cheek got a bit harder. They started to sting.

"Bones! Doctor McCoy! You need to wake up! Now!"

The command in Jim's voice kicked his training into gear and the rush of adrenaline helped him push through the remnants of sleep. He opened his eyes again to see Jim's concerned face just above his own. "Jim? Wha...?"

"We've been kidnapped and put into cryogenic stasis. You need to wake up, because I think our kidnappers will be here soon."

_Stasis? Well, I've always wondered what that was like. It sucks._

McCoy tried to push himself up and Jim helped. Sitting, he could see he was in a stasis tube. Around him was what looked like a large storage area, with shelves and equipment behind a chain-link wall. "Where are we?"

"Don't know yet," Jim said as he helped McCoy out of the stasis tube. "But I _think_ it's an old Nausicaa Night-hider. One of the old pirate ships they used to use to hide in asteroid belts and pick off ships from the travel lanes."

"Pirates kidnapped us?"

"I think we'll know soon enough," Jim said, steering McCoy to a nearby strut so he could lean against it while he got his sea legs back. "There's a vid lens in the ceiling over there, so I think who ever put us in this cell is watching us. Our stasis tubes had a timer on them. They know when we were due to thaw out."

Looking around, McCoy realized he'd missed the fact that the chain link wall wasn't around the storage area, but around their two stasis tubes. They were in a cell, kept from the rest of the room. The tube Jim must have been in was next to McCoy's.

"You okay?" McCoy looked Jim over. They both were in the civilian clothes he last remembered them in. He wasn't sure what had happened after the last of his lectures they'd attended. "How'd they get us?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit hung over and hungry. I woke up in the stasis tube and found yours was just starting to warm you up again," Jim said. "They booby-trapped your suitcase and you got some sort of powder full in the face. Took you right out. I breathed in some trying to get you out of it and apparently didn't make it very far."

"And they just beamed us out of the hotel? No, they couldn't have. Transport blockers," McCoy reminded himself.

"Could have just bundled us up and taken us out some of the maintenance exits," Jim said. "It's not like people expect bags of linen to be full of unconscious people."

McCoy went back to his stasis chamber. It was old and it scared McCoy that someone had trusted it to keep him alive. He wouldn't trust it to make ice cubes. Punching some buttons on the side, he brought up some of the data on the screen. "Jim! This thing's been running for almost two weeks!"

Jim, looking over his shoulder, frowned and looked back up to the ceiling where he thought the vid-feed was. "Mine says the same thing. We could be almost anywhere by now, depending on the engine's specs. Certainly out of Sol's system. We'll have been missed long ago, so should have someone looking for us.

_The Enterprise will still be in dry dock for weeks. Scotty's a miracle worker, but even he can't put a ship back together that fast! And where do they look? We don't even know where we are, or why we're here._

"Didn't know we're so popular," McCoy said. His head was feeling better, but he really wished for a chair until he felt less wobbly. Only, there was nothing in the cell except the two of them and the stasis chambers.

_No food. No water. No bedding or toilet. This may get really ugly if they didn't plan on keeping us very long. And we'll both need to eat soon. As soon as the nausea goes away we'll be starving. No one's supposed to go into the stasis chamber without carb loading. And we hadn't even gotten to our dinner before we were taken._

"They'll probably be here soon," Jim said with certainty.

Just a few seconds after he spoke, the round hand wheel on the door turned and the heavy hatch swung open.

Two beings stepped in. One was a short, older human who grinned at them smugly, and the other a young Andorian who glared at them. The human, dressed in fancy clothing with what McCoy thought was an embarrassing amount of jewelry around his neck, on his fingers and in his ears, swaggered as he stepped into the room. The young Andorian followed, hand on the knife sheath hanging on his belt.

"Surprised I could find you, John?" The human sneered as he walked up to the cell wall, eyes only for McCoy. "I told you I'd find you. _No one_ steals from me and gets away with it."

"I don't know who the hell you are," McCoy began angrily, "but you've got the wrong person! My name is McCoy. Doctor Leonard McCoy. I'm a member of Starfleet!"

"Sure it is. This time around," the human smiled and shook his head, then glanced at Jim before turning back to McCoy. "Didn't expect an extra passenger. But my men figured if he was one of your sex toys, he might come in handy in convincing you to give me my stolen cargo back. I could take it out of his hide if you've sold my stuff off already."

"Look, I don't have a clue--"

Jim stepped in front of McCoy. "Since you've obviously got the wrong people, let me introduce myself. I am Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. I don't know who you were after, but you've just kidnapped two _Federation Officers_."

The man looked at Jim, then laughed. "Sure you are, hot shot." He looked back over at McCoy. "I get the joke. I do. Really. But next time you pick a sidekick, John, make sure he at least looks the part. I've seen enough holos of Kirk to know that this guy doesn't even come close to looking like him."

"What?" McCoy sputtered in surprise and frustration. "Of course he looks like him! He _is_ him."

Jim sighed and shook his head. He crossed his arms. "Fine. Look, even though you think Doctor McCoy should know you, he doesn't. Try telling _me_ who you are."

The man's eyes glittered angrily as he studied Kirk. "Watch your tone, son. I'm called Havalack, if you must know. I'm a trader in... lost merchandise. An important trader who can sell your ass to anyone with a credit to spare."

"A pirate, you mean," Jim said, standing his ground and meeting Havalack's gaze with a steady one of his own. "I've heard of you. Usually run in the Delta sector, don't you? Hit and run family ships, travelers, those who's security and escorts aren't the best. So, this must be the _Blue-Hawk_. Fits the description of the warrant the Federation has put out for its capture. The Sol system is far out of your turf, isn't it, Havalack?"

Havalack chuckled, the smile on his face threatening. "Nice acting, son, but you learned all that at John's knee, I suppose. Or, while you were on _your_ knees, for him."

"Just who the hell do you think I am?" McCoy demanded, taking a step around Jim. He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. He left in the anger.

"John the Dragon, of course," Havalack said with a shake of his head. "Always with the cloaks and masks, right John? First time I got to see your face clearly, I made sure to memorize it, just in case I ever ran across you again. Came in handy when I saw you were doing a job for Abeowa. His men let slip where to look for you. But enough of the pretend." Havalack stepped up to the metal mesh. "I want my cargo back! Every last bit of it. So, tell me where it is and maybe I won't kill you," Havalack said, his face stony. "I'd rather work with you than against you, John. Don't think I won't make your life a living hell until I get what's mine, or a fair price for it. Just remember, _I_ decide what a fair price is."

"I am Doctor Leonard _McCoy_!" McCoy ground out, glaring at him. "I'm the CMO of the Enterprise. This is my Captain, James T. Kirk. And if you don't think he looks like the vids of Jim Kirk, you're damned well blind! Hell, you must be if you think I'm this John person you're looking for."

"We're getting close to Abeowan's territory," Havalack said, shaking his head. "You don't have time for games. Either you give me my cargo back or I take it out of your friend's hide. If that doesn't work, I'll hand you over to Abeowa himself. You may have done one job for him, but that won't save you from his wrath. Because," Havalack said leaning forward, close to the mesh as he stared McCoy and growled, _"that_ cargo was meant for Abeowa himself. So, if _I_ can't produce it, I'll produce the man who _stole_ it from me. And you know that if he wants something, he _gets_ it. No matter how many strips of skin he has to peel off your back."

A claxon suddenly sounded, echoing loudly down the hall of the ship. Both Havalack and the Andorian startled.

"We've been tagged," the Andorian hissed.

"Shit!" Havalack said, turning to race out the open door. Close behind him, the Andorian threw Jim and McCoy a glare as he raced after his boss. The door slammed shut behind them both.

"What the hell was that about?" McCoy asked Jim in confusion. "You know who he is?"

"I've seen him in some of the Starfleet packets." Jim stepped back and looked at the top of the wall of chained link. "Small time hustler and pirate, and only picks on ships that don't have any security to speak of. Which tends to be settlers, travelers, and families. He's like Harry Muddy, but a lot more dangerous. He isn't known for taking slaves or hostages, so must be pretty freaked out to work so hard getting his stolen cargo back."

"Why does he think I'm this John guy?"

"No clue," Jim admitted. "Never heard of the guy. But Havalack must be really convinced you're him, if he can't tell at this range that you're not the same guy."

"And he doesn't think you're Captain Kirk," McCoy said, watching as Jim paced back and forth, his eyes on the ceiling. "So how do we convince him otherwise?"

"Let's find out." Jim waved McCoy over. "I need to get up there. I need your back."

McCoy went down on one knee so Jim could step on his thigh and then his shoulders to reach the top of the chain-link wall. McCoy grunted at the weight, but held as still as he could. He could hear Jim do something with the mesh, and suddenly Jim's weight was gone.

Surprised, McCoy looked up to see Jim squeezing himself through a hole between the top of the mesh and the ceiling.

_They didn't_ _weld it to the ceiling? They must not transport a lot of people if they didn't think to do that. Leave it to Jim to see the weak spot in a cell._

McCoy watched quietly as Jim forced himself through the gap at the top of the wall, which was pulled down by his weight. It wasn't much of an opening and McCoy found himself chewing on his lower lip as Jim pulled himself through it. Jim was going to be good and scratched up under his shirt. Once he had his head, shoulders and arms were through, Jim twisted and pulled himself completely through the opening. Then, hanging by the top of the now warped fencing, Jim dropped lightly to the floor.

McCoy climbed up after Jim, barely able to get his toes and fingers in the mesh to pull himself up. It helped that Jim's passage had enlarged the hole for him.

When he hit the deck on the other side Jim handed him a hammer, yelling over the sound of the alarm. "Watch the Andorian's knife. He's probably really good with it."

"What are we going to do?" McCoy asked, testing the weight of the hammer in his hand. He hoped he didn't have to use it. Especially not against a knife.

"We're going to take the bridge," Jim said with a smile. "Then lock this ship down until we get some answers.

"And how do we do that?" McCoy asked incredulously. "There could be hundreds of crewmen we have to fight through to get there!"

"You'll see," Jim said with a wink. "Stay close behind me and watch my back."

He then turned to the door, twisted the hand wheel and pushed it open. Jim then leaned over to peer out and into the hallway. The whole place smelled to McCoy like Scotty's shop, reeking of engine oils, cleaners and ozone. The markings on the hallways were worn down with time but somehow Jim could read them.

The claxon stopped, much to McCoy's relief. The hall in the ship was narrow, and McCoy could only hope that if they ran into someone they'd have the element of surprise on their side. They moved quickly, passing closed doors and ladders to other levels. McCoy could feel the float of the ship as it took some evasive maneuvers that the old gravity generator didn't seem to be able to compensate for. Even with the unsure footing, Jim seemed to have a destination in mind.

_Jim knows where he's going? Of course he does. I guess all those toy ships and the model collecting he did as a kid finally paid off. He always wanted a pirate ship and now he's got a chance to get one. _

Jim chose a ladder going up and McCoy followed him. The upper-level hallway was not only narrower, but the ceiling lower. Moving faster, Jim came to a hatch at the end and tried to open it.

"Help me with this," Jim said, struggling to move the hand wheel on the old door.

McCoy helped him turn it. If felt like it hadn't been opened in years and had been left to seal itself shut. They finally got it open. Jim waved his arm inside and somewhere a sensor triggered the lights to come on. Inside was a small room filled with a mass of wires, boards, and various bits of electronics that filled the small room with blinking lights.

_No one's been here in a while. Dust everywhere. Is this a backup control room?_

Jim walked with certainty to what looked like a chest-high metal cabinet with buttons and a screen. He did something McCoy couldn't see and the screen in front of him flickered on. McCoy crowded up behind him to look over his shoulder. It looked like a tactical display. On it, it looked as though the ship they were on was being shot at by another ship. The _Blue-Hawk_ wasn't far ahead of its attacker.

"Redundant piloting controls," Jim said excitedly, sitting on a dusty piece of furniture that was obviously built as a chair for something not quite humanoid. Jim's fingers flew over buttons and levers McCoy couldn't identity. "It's live! I can lock the cockpit out of the loop. We can run the ship from here if we need to. If it's the Federation after us, we can stall the ship from here and let them take us."

"Can you tell who it is?"

Jim studied the screen. McCoy was used to the navigation screens on the Enterprise, but this was so old he had no idea what he was seeing.

"Unidentified." Jim was frowning now. "Definitely not one of ours."

"Great. Stay with the devil we know or invite a new one in to play. Not much of a choice," McCoy muttered.

The ship wobbled just then. McCoy grabbed onto a nearby wall brace to steady himself.

"That ship's not aiming to hit," Jim said, a finger tracing the line of fire from the ship chasing them on the small screen. "They're chasing, but exploding their ammo before it can connect with us. They could have blown us up by now if they'd wanted to. From the specs, looks like a Marauder Class vessel. Not broadcasting any ID. If it's got markings, we can't see it on this screen."

McCoy groaned. "You mean, _another_ pirate ship is chasing _this_ pirate ship."

Jim nodded. "Looks like it."

"Oh, great! That makes our choices even more interesting."

"Not for long," Jim said, flipping a lot of switches and lighting up an old pair of hand controllers. "This crew may not be able to outrun the guy, but _I_ can."

"What? How can you--"

McCoy only had a second to grab a firmer grip on the support pole when Jim hit a series of buttons and the ship jerked. A red light came on around them and the claxon came on again. The sound of the hatches locking themselves closed echoed down the hallway and into their small room. Jim shut the claxon off.

"They're locked out. I've taken over. Hold on!"

McCoy did, because if there was anyone who could test out the gravity generator, while avoiding one pirate while stealing the ship of another, it was James Kirk. And it only took a few seconds to realize that the gravity generator on this ship wasn't even close to being up to the task. McCoy held on, trying not to bump into Jim as he put the ship through gymnastic moves that make McCoy wonder if the old ship could take it. Since it was a one-man console, McCoy just tried to stay out of the way.

The chase, or what McCoy could see on it from his glimpses of the screen as he tried to hang on, seemed to last forever. But after one memorable roll, where the gravity generator almost gave up on them, Jim gave a laugh of joy. Glancing over Jim's shoulder at the screen, McCoy noticed was that they were now in an asteroid field.

"You're hiding us among asteroids?" McCoy asked incredulously. "Jim, we're in a rusty tin can. How are we going to get out of that without getting crushed?

"Pirates _live_ out here," Jim said, working more controls. "We can too. We'll just have to be careful. And it's working. Look."

McCoy looked at the screen and realized he didn't see the pursuing ship. "They could still be out there. Anyone with better tech than us might be able to see us before we see them."

"True. Which is why we're going to sit here for a while."

"What about the crew? How many are there? Won't they be working their way here to find out who took over their ship?"

"There's usually about seven on a ship this size, and I think they know by now." Jim gave McCoy an amused look. "And they won't get too far. I not only shut down all the controls in the cockpit, and routed them here, but sealed all the doors shut. Even if they use a welder it'll take them time to get in here. I've got a few ideas about that. See if there are a set of bio-controls on that panel, while I look for a nearby planet. Anything we can use to knock the crew out?"

McCoy did as requested, checking out some consoles off to the side. He asked, "Why can't we just head for a Member planet, or call for help from here?"

"Too far out. This tub doesn't have the sub-space capabilities we'd need to contact the Federation. It'd take weeks. This ship only has a Lang Cycle Fusion engine and they're nearly tapped out after that chase."

McCoy read some of the data that showed up at his request on the bio-system screens. "It's got one main vent system. We can shut oxygen off room by room, or dose the whole ship with something to put everyone out. There isn't any way to find out how many are aboard, or what species they are."

"I've got an idea on how to get them out of the ship," Jim said with a smile. "Let's get to a planet first."

They waited for almost two hours before leaving the asteroid belt. Jim had found a planet close by and after another three hours they came within sight of it.

While they were waiting, Jim turned on the comms to various rooms and they were able to pinpoint the crewmembers by the furious rants and threats they made to their hijackers. Havalack's threats were especially entertaining and McCoy memorized some choice curses to use himself at an appropriate time. While the seven crew members of the Blue-Hawk could threaten and yell all they wanted, none of them were going anywhere without Jim's cooperation from the backup-bridge. Jim had the ship locked up tight.

Once they had figured out where everyone was, Jim was able to unlock selected doors on the ship and McCoy made a quick run to the galley. He grabbed everything he could find that looked sealed and ready to eat and a bucket he filled with water bottles. The water they needed, and the bucket could be used as a toilet. He made it a quick trip, in case the crew had found a way past their own hatches.

Then he and Jim dug into the food once they were both safe in the locked room. McCoy was famished and even he was surprised at how much they both ate. It wasn't good, but McCoy was long past being picky.

As the planet came into sight on the small screen, Jim pointed it out to McCoy. "That's Zephane. We can drop the crew off there, on one of the remote islands and take the ship to the main city. Then see if we can make some contacts to get some word home about where we are."

McCoy sighed. "I've heard about that place. Isn't it outside the Federation? Famous for pirates, thieves and whatever else you want to call the bad guys?"

"Yeah, that's the one." Jim shook his head. "But we can't get much further. Havalack's run this ship on fumes to get us out this far. He must have planned to refuel on Zephane or a couple of other planets close by. But we don't have the connections or credits to refuel the ship. Havalack and his men may have people on Zephane who'd object to us having taken the _Blue-Hawk_. I think our best bet is to park the ship, then leave it and disappear into the crowd. If Havalack and his crew do make it back to the ship, we'll be hard to find. Hopefully, we'll be on our way home and can find out what the hell's going on."

"And how do we do that?" McCoy asked. "It's not like non-Federation planets take credits. They're not going to give us a place to stay, anything to eat, or any help just based on our good looks."

Jim smiled. "We don't want to keep the ship, but that doesn't mean Havalack doesn't owe us some payback for the kidnapping. I think a garage sale of items from the _Blue-Hawk_ is in order. There has to be something on this ship we can sell or trade for whatever currency they're using here. And we're not even wearing our uniforms, so we should blend in pretty well."

"Sounds like we're in for a long few days."

"Yes, but at least they'll be days outside of that cell." Jim grinned. "Now let's pick an island to leave the crew on and get this ship to Zephane's main city. First step on our way home."

 

***

 

Jim sat at the bar, which was more a shelf of waste metal on boxes than a real bar, and watched the man across the room. Jim was tired so only sipped at his drink. Whatever the stuff was, it was potent. He didn't need his head fuzzy right now. But it did help wake him up a bit as it burned like acid all the way down. McCoy sat next to him, nursing his own drink. He had his eyes down, on his glass. No use two of them staring at the guy and alerting him.

They were both dressed in layers, under the mandatory capes and hoods that those on Zephane wore both as a defense against the constant rain and cold winds and to keep their privacy. In the dark, dirty, loud bar, Jim had kept his hood down and McCoy had left his up, hiding his face. Jim sat on the outside of McCoy, ready to act if someone looked to be headed his way.

It had been a busy, and surprise filled, twelve hours since they'd set down the _Blue-Hawk_ at the city's spacecraft lot. Forcing Havalack and his men off the ship and onto the island had been easy. Once they'd landed, Jim had slowly removed the oxygen from the room the crew was in and then opened the door to the next. The crew had had no choice but to move from the cockpit, through the ship, and down and out the ramp to the ground beneath the ship. They'd yelled, threatened, and tried to break into the room Jim and McCoy had barricaded themselves into. But they'd had no choice but to follow the oxygen to Zephane's surface.

Once parked outside of the city of Last Stand, pretty much the only city on Zephane, Jim had been able to have the dock fees charged to Havalack's account. Then he and McCoy had taken everything they could easily carry which would bring them a good price and headed to Last Stand's busy black market. Havalack could have the ship back when he could find a ride over the thousand miles between them.

Well, except for some prime engine parts that Jim knew were universally used and worth a lot of credits. Along with some old projectile guns and an assortment of stunners and knives. They'd both taken a few of the knives and stunners to keep for themselves. The projectile guns they'd sold, as it was too hard to get bullets and gunpowder for them. McCoy griped that he couldn't find his medkit until they found it tossed in a drawer in the galley while they were filling pockets with nutrient packs.

Selling the items had been easy. There were buyers sitting outside the dock, waiting for large or small parcels of goods to come into town. Jim had been able to haggle a good price for the valuable ship parts Havalack would have to buy back if he wanted to fly. What had been tricky was the form of payment. Zephane's economy ran on just about every form of physical paper and coin that existed. As long as it wasn't electronic, they would trade with it. But some forms of coin were worth more than others. The third fence Jim had worked with, having walked away from the first two when they'd offered such a low amount for the items as to be insulting, had offered him payment in Orion, Terran, Andorian and Vulcan coin. Jim had chosen Orion, and hoped that would get them the biggest bang for their buck.

Then had come the point of hanging around bars to find out from the bartenders who they could hire to send out sub-space messages. Contacting the Federation wasn't high on anyone's 'to do' list. Doing so would send up a lot of red-flags to a lot of shady individuals on the planet. It's not like the Federation had an office, or even an ambassador, here at the ass-end of explored space. Zephane itself had no police force, but ruling mobs that kept the peace. So, they had tramped through the rain and mud from one bar to another and had finally found a bartender who, for a price, could point out the person they needed to see.

Jim looked down at his glass and the remains of his drink. He'd been stringing this one out, as had McCoy.

_Well, it looks like Chit'wren is it. We need to get some word out about where we are before we hunker down for the night. Because if we can't get word out, we'll have to start looking for a ride to any world that does have Federation connections. And I'm not sure we'll have enough credits for any kind of ship passage if we spend much more of it. Better to keep what we have and sleep in a dark corner somewhere than have to go back to the Blue-Hawk for more items to sell. Havalack could have people looking for us even now. So, the sooner we can discover what our options are, the better._

But the bartender had warned that Chit'wren, a Borothan who'd clearly seen some rough times, didn't like to be approached until he'd finished his meal. And he had three of his own men with him to back that up. So, Jim and McCoy had bought drinks and waited.

"How long does it take for a Borothan to eat?" McCoy whispered, clearly frustrated. "I nurse this drink any longer and the bar tender's going to kick us out. They'll be closing soon."

"Not much longer," Jim answered.

_He's right, though. If Chit'wren doesn't finish soon, we'll either have to buy more drinks, which we don't need, or take a chance on insulting the guy. It's getting late for Zephane, and we'll need to find someplace to wait out the night pretty soon._

But as the Borothan suddenly pushed back from the table, Jim pushed away from the bar as well. McCoy followed him over the Chit'wren's table. Chit'wren's men watched them approach with wary eyes.

"A good trade to you," Jim said, using his best, most non-aggressive smile. He ignored the others, and spoke only to Chit'wren himself. "I believe we can do business, to both our benefit."

The use of the standard Zephaniah greeting seemed to work. Chit'wren nodded, and shoved at the man seated next to him, who left his seat quickly. Chit'wren motioned for Jim to sit.

"Always up for a good trade," Chit'wren ground out. Even at their best, Borothans were a bit hard to understand. Their vocal cords were not quite humanoid, even though their facial spikes and skull ridges were the only real sign they weren't Terran. "Sit and make your request." 

Jim sat, with McCoy standing close behind him. "I've been told you have the corner on sub-space communications and data feeds. I need to see what's going on in some of the Federation territories, and make a personal connection to someone on New Vulcan. The person I need to talk to may not be on planet. So, it may take a few tries to get to someone on my list if my first contact can't be located."

Chit'wren eyed him and McCoy. "You have the credits for this?"

"We have Orion," Jim said with a shrug. "It's enough if you don't try to cheat us."

Chit'wren smiled. "True enough, I suppose. To contact someone on a Federation planet usually means a big job. You planning something that may pay out for many of us?"

Jim shrugged again. "Plans are always big. Otherwise, why bother?"

Chit'wren laughed, a long keening sound what was more wail than anything else. "True. Fine. I have the equipment for what you want. Let's see if you can pay."

Chit'wren mentioned a number in Orion credits, and Jim thought about it for a minute, then countered with a lower number. They could have paid the original price quoted, but one didn't just take the first deal on Zephane. It would have been suspicious not to haggle. After throwing some amounts back and forth, they both settled on an amount that Jim considered on the high-end of fair and expected.

"Agreed," Chit'wren said happily. "When do you want this connection?"

"Now," Jim said instantly.

Chit'wren shrugged as if he'd expected the answer. "Then follow me, and we will get you set up. Sub-space does not care if it is day or night, so you are in luck there."

Outside, it was dark and drizzling. Jim, McCoy, Chit'wren and his men made their way through the busy pathways that separated each large building and were the only way to travel inside the city. There were no wide streets here, just a large maze that only those who lived here their whole lives could really memorize well. Jim tried to keep up with the twists and turns, in case they had to find their way back in a hurry.

They finally came to a small courtyard and a small building among the bigger ones. McCoy grabbed at Jim's arm before they got to the front door, and leaned close to Jim.

"Where's the satellite dishes?" McCoy asked, keeping his voice low. "How can he contact anyone when he's sandwiched between all these taller buildings? Wouldn't he need a clear signal out?"

Jim had noticed as well. "Maybe this is just the hub and his equipment is in one of those buildings."

_And do we have any choice but to follow him in? We need to get some word out, soon._

They entered a small hallway and were led to a larger room in the back. There were seats and data consoles crammed all along the walls. At the back of the room was what looked like a communications center. There, sat a masked man, dressed in all black, including his cape and hood. There were two men behind him and no-one else in the room.

Jim and McCoy stopped short. Jim could feel Chit'wren's men close off the hallway behind them.

_Damn it, it is a trap!_ Jim's hand went to the stun-gun at his waist, but he held back until he could see how this was going to go. Chit'wren's men were close at his back and could attack at any sudden move. McCoy hissed in anger and stepped closer to Jim, ready to cover him if it came to a fight.

"You said to watch, and they came," Chit'wren told the man in black. "I expect my pay, now."

The man in black nodded and stepped toward them. "You'll have it."

There was something about his voice that reminded Jim of someone. The man was about two meters tall, and looked human, although Jim knew that the clothes hid too much to be sure. He was broad of shoulder, narrow of hip, and looked to be someone who kept himself in shape. The mask on the man's face covered the top of his face, from his upper lip to the top of his head, which was covered by the hood. The mask looked like leather and was formed into the image of a dragon's face and upper snout. The dragon's teeth looked like real fangs, and the man's eyes were hidden behind some sort of red plastic that formed the dragon's eyes.

_John the Dragon! Havalack mentioned him. That's who he thought Bones was!_

"Leave us alone," the man in black ordered Chit'wren. "My men will pay you outside."

Chit'wren nodded and he and his men turned to leave, seemingly unconcerned that Jim or McCoy might turn on them and fight their way out.

_So, no threats. No capture? He knew we'd be here. How?_

When everyone but the three of them had left, the man in black took a couple of steps forward. Jim tensed, and could feel McCoy did as well.

"You're a good pilot, Jim Kirk," the man said, sounding sincere. "I could tell when you took over from Havalack's pilot. Him, I could outfly. Especially if I wanted him dead."

"But you didn't want him, us, dead," Jim replied, trying to see any sign in what he could see of the man's face as to his mood.

_Why do I feel like I should know him? Have I met him before? Seen him in a vid?_

"No, I was just trying to get Havalack to land. If he had, I could have paid well for your release. But he was never one to trust a man's word." The man smiled under the mask and Jim froze. He knew those lips, that smile.

Without meaning to, Jim glanced sideways at McCoy, making sure he was still there. Jim cursed the move as soon as he made it, knowing it gave too much away.

"Who _are_ you?" McCoy asked, acting as if he recognized the man as well, and it bothered him.

"Someone who's been meaning to meet you, one day," the man in black said as he reached up to lift the mask off of his face.

Jim was stunned and could only stare. Amused hazel eyes stared back.

_Damn! No wonder Havalack thought Bones was this guy. They could be twins!_

"What the hell?" McCoy sputtered in surprise.

"Nice to meet you too, Grandson," The man's dimples deepened as he smiled, making him look exactly like Leonard McCoy. "But call me John. John Grimm. And not only am I here to help, but I've got a story you might want to hear."

***

 

_Who the hell is this guy, and why is he here?_ McCoy wondered. _Why all the work to look like me? Maybe now we can find out what all this has been about._

John had asked that Jim and McCoy follow him to his ship. Asked nicely, even. Not ordered them or demanded they follow him. After a quick talk with Jim, they'd decided to follow the guy and were hyper aware of the men that followed them as guards. Apparently, no one with any position at all moved by themselves on Zephane. McCoy was thinking he and Jim had been lucky not to have been mugged during their bar-hopping. Especially when people at the dock knew they'd been selling off goods off the _Blue-Hawk_ , and had physical credits on them.

But they'd both been surprised when they'd gotten to John the Dragon's ship and the men just nodded at the man and left.

"Hired guns, not crew," John said as he walked into his ship after letting the security system scan him. He didn't even look back to see if Jim and McCoy were following. "Don't have a crew anymore. It's just me."

John set them down in the galley of the ship and offered some Andorian gin. When they'd refused, he'd offered them orange juice and some fruit. Once they were settled around the table, McCoy found himself too impatient to wait anymore. He was too agitated to enjoy the food, fresh or not.

"Alright," McCoy began, crossing his arms in a show of defiance. "You've spent a lot of time trying to look like me. Want to tell me why go to all the trouble? It's not like I'm that important or anything. I'm just a doctor."

John smiled at him.

_Okay, I have to admit this is uncomfortable. I feel like I'm staring at myself. Whatever they did, they went to a lot trouble._

"You got it _backwards_ , kid. _I_ was here first. This face belongs to me."

_Do I sound like that? Maybe. I can't really tell. I don't hear my own voice very often._

But something told McCoy that while it wasn't quite his voice, it would be a lot closer if the guy didn't have a strange accent. Like he'd picked up pieces of it from here and there.

"Really?" McCoy asked sarcastically. "Since this is the way I was _born_ , how do you figure that I'm stepping on _your_ toes?"

"Because, I'm your great, great, great, great Grandfather," the man said with a tilt of his head and a smirk. " _You're_ the clone, not me." He seemed deadly serious, although he was watching McCoy curiously.

"Oh, God, you're crazy," McCoy sighed, rubbing at his face. "Why do the insane ones flock to me? And no, if you know, don't tell me. It'd just make me more depressed."

"That _is_ rather hard to believe, John," Jim said settling back and drinking his juice. Jim looked calm, and McCoy felt a bit jealous that Jim could chill out like that, even in the weirdest situations.

John shook his head. "Frankly, I don't blame either of you for doubting me. It's not like it's something I can convince you of without taking some drastic measures. Which we'll save for later. Don't you want to hear the story?"

"Well, _John_ , how about you start with why we're here," McCoy said tiredly.

_Do I even want to hear the rantings of a mad man? Maybe Jim can use the information for something. Even if it's just to get this guy to let us make a call. Or drop us off on a Federation planet. People at home are probably frantic by now._

John's face grew serious as he looked at McCoy. "You're in a bit of trouble and I had to make emergency plans to get you out of it."

"How am _I_ in trouble?"

"Doctor Leonard McCoy broke into a super secure Starfleet research facility," John began. "The Phoenix Complex. And he took a lot of items that Starfleet had uncovered on Mars. About thirty years of excavation work. Starfleet then put out a warrant for his arrest. They were gathering their forces on Mars to gather you two up when you were kidnapped. The timing just happened to suck. If Havalack had waited, Starfleet would have had you behind bars by now."

" _My_ arrest?" McCoy blinked. "Even though _I_ was clearly at various medical conferences at Utopia for the past week? Where everyone could see me sitting there, taking a ton of notes and trying to keep up? Where even my husband could vouch for me?"

"Because _you_ broke into the Phoenix Complex," Jim said calmly, watching John closely. "You used Bones' ID to get in, didn't you? Somehow got past the DNA scanners. The Phoenix Complex is Starfleet Medical's top-security research station. Bones has been offered a job there, repeatedly. You fake the transfer orders, get past the DNA scanners, and they wouldn't question you. You'd have access to anything and everything they had."

"Bingo," John said with a smile.

That smile was really starting to creep McCoy out.

"Then, you leave and Bones is left to take the blame," Jim said gravely. "Hardly something we should thank you for. An arrest and suspicion of theft at the least and treason at the worst."

"It wouldn't have been for long. As you said, the real Leonard McCoy would have an alibi. All those vids of him at the medical conference and the testimony of a Starship Captain to back him up." John shook his head frowning. "But Havalack kidnapped you, thinking you were me. I was doing a deal with him, and tried to buy something he'd promised to someone else. Someone who doesn't take kindly to having something he's ordered go astray. So, I stole it from Havalack. Apparently, he saw you in the news somewhere, thought you were me and kidnapped you to get his cargo back. He's in sort of a bind," John said, taking a sip of his own juice. "Havalack took partial payment for the cargo, so doesn't dare show up without it. And he's one of the few in these past years who've seen my face. Not many have these last twenty years or so. He probably thinks that I use the _'Doctor McCoy'_ persona to hide out during those times I go offline."

"That fits with what Havalack said," Jim admitted. "He thought Bones was you and wanted his stuff back."

"Actually, you were lucky in one way," John said.

"Lucky? Oh, how's that?" McCoy asked in disbelief.

"Havalack got to you before Starfleet did. If Section 31 had gotten to you first... well, I'd have had to re-think my options," John admitted gravely, his eyes troubled. "I didn't think I was on their radar. But... I've found out otherwise. If Starfleet had picked you up, you'd be in Section 31 cells now. And I can only imagine they'd use you to pull me out into the open. Even if they got me, I doubt they'd have ever let you go."

"Who are you, really?" Jim asked politely. "And how do you know so much about us, the Federation putting a warrant out for McCoy, and Section 31?"

John winced slightly at the last question. "That part you don't need to worry about. What we do need to worry about is this whole plan playing out to the finish."

"And what plan is that?" Jim asked. "Selling off all the items you stole from the Phoenix Complex? Because I can already tell you, that we can't let you do that."

John smiled sadly. "Everything they're missing has been destroyed. They only _think_ I came out of there with their treasures."

"You broke in there to _destroy_ something?" McCoy asked suspiciously. "Why do I not believe you?"

"Because you don't know my story yet," John said with a sigh. "It was for a good cause, believe me."

"And that good cause would be?" McCoy asked.

"To make sure that what happened on Olduvai 215 years ago never happens again," John said quietly. McCoy could see the man was deadly serious.

"What's Olduvai?" Jim asked the question McCoy was about to ask.

John smiled, got up and opened a drawer in the wall. He pulled out what looked like a PADD and closed the drawer. He slid the PADD across the table to McCoy.

"There's something else you should know. This PADD was issued to Doctor McCoy when he reported for duty at the Phoenix Complex. Check to see who it's assigned to, if you don't believe me."

McCoy picked it up gingerly, Jim leaning over his shoulder. "Doctor Leonard H. McCoy, CMO, Enterprise. My Federation ID number."

"Try to unlock it."

McCoy pressed his thumb on the ident-screen.

_'DENIED'_ flashed on the screen along with _'DNA: No Match'._

McCoy tried it again.

_'DENIED'_ flashed again. _'DNA: No Match'._

"Let me see it," Jim said. McCoy handed the PADD over and Jim inspected both the case and the screen. "Looks legit," Jim said with a scowl.

"Slide it back," John requested.

Jim did.

John picked it up and touched his thumb to the ident-screen. Both McCoy and Jim were shown the open screen of the PADD as it accepted his DNA.

"You can't get into anything that's linked to your DNA, or fingerprints, for a while," John said, looking at McCoy. "So, if you're thinking of taking off and getting home on your own, and you want to prove who really are, you might want to wait for a bit."

"How did you--?" Jim started, then a look of understanding and trepidation came over his face as he looked at John. "You've substituted your records for his."

McCoy was startled. "What? But how?"

" _Everything_ ties back to Starfleet records, in their main database," Jim said grimly to McCoy, his eyes still on John. "If he got in there and slipped his DNA and fingerprint files in place of yours, every time he set his thumb on any screen that needed signing, or confirmation of your identity, it would come back as McCoy."

"You hacked Starfleet's main database?" McCoy asked, dreading the answer.

John just smiled.

"And if he's hacked that..." Jim shook his head. "That's how he could get into any top-secret, DNA ID-Only secure areas. It would always test out as 'Doctor McCoy' when he supplied a thumb print or DNA sample." Jim looked at McCoy with concern. "And you would be the stranger."

"Yeah, sorry about that," John said with a shrug as he sat back down at the table. "It's been long enough that your fingerprints and DNA signature should have been put back into place, but I can't be sure. We've had some... roadblocks along the way. But the DNA signature wasn't that hard to change, honestly. Since we're related, _actually_ related, our DNA is close enough that only a tiny amount had to be changed to match mine."

McCoy felt like his head was reeling. Now, not only could he not be identified as who he really was, but there was a man sitting across from him that could be his twin. And that man had been posing as him and getting Starfleet to put a warrant out for his arrest? It was unnerving, unnatural, and he didn't like it at all.

"Okay, first off, you lost me at the _'grandson'_ thing." McCoy shook his head. "Bullshit! You've either gone to a lot of trouble to look like me, or you're some sort of shape-shifter. We've seen those before, both in person and in other people's reports."

John smiled sadly. "I figured you'd say that. And, honestly, I never thought I'd actually end up meeting you. This wasn't meant to happen this way so I never thought about how to explain all this." John shoved the PADD back to them. Jim grabbed it as it slid toward them. "Read the transfer order and the history of the Phoenix project. That'll be a start."

Both Jim and McCoy read the transfer order to the Phoenix Complex.

_Unaccompanied tour, was it? Indefinite duration? Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. Bellamy would have had an orgasm if he thought he could get me to agree to that. No wonder they didn't question it when John arrived, with those orders. They must have heard Bellamy talk about trying to get me to join the team. They must have just assumed he was finally able to do it._

Then they read the abbreviated history of Olduvai.

_God,_ McCoy thought, as he sat back after reaching the end. _That reads like a bad horror movie. A virus that mutates so fast that it spreads like wildfire through the complex? And not even the **marines** could keep the victims contained? No wonder they nuked the Earth-side site. That's the kind of scenario Starfleet Medical's been scared of for years. Something that close to Earth could wipe out the whole planet before we could even get it analyzed._

And he hadn't missed the name of Dr. Grimm's twin brother, who died in the nuclear blast at the Nevada site, 215 years ago.

_John Grimm._

Jim tossed the PADD down on the table. "You can't be the same John Grimm."

"I know it's hard to believe, but I was _there_. Sam was my twin sister."

"Says here John Grimm died of the rogue virus, or at least was killed by someone with it," McCoy countered.

"That report's a lie," John said simply, his face stony. "It's what Sam, my sister, told everyone at UAC. What happened was worse." John sighed and shook his head. "You know your history? The Eugenics Wars?"

McCoy and Jim both nodded.

_We both know more about it than most,_ McCoy though unhappily, _what with dealing with Kahn and everything. But I can see how the UAC must have kept everything about Olduvai quiet back then. Just like the whole Enterprise crew has been ordered to keep quiet about what really happened between the Enterprise and Admiral Marcus. How easily they warped the truth about Kahn, and made Marcus look like a saint. They must have done the same at Olduvai._

"Sure," Jim said, keeping to what they had been taught in school. "Selective breeding and enhancements, late 1950s. The Augmented took over about, what, 1992 to 1996. An estimated 37 million dead by the time the Augmented leaders lost power. Made human genetic manipulation for augmentation purposes illegal. Made everyone so paranoid about it that even research into curing genetic defects is handled with a ton of red-tape and a whole committee's worth of overseeing, even now."

"And what do you think could be worse than the Augmented?" John asked. "Heck, even as Super Human as they were, they all had the same problem every other person had. Care to guess what could make them even scarier?"

McCoy thought about it for a moment. "The Augmented could get sick, although not very often and not from common viruses. They could be killed by a bullet, or any other well placed projectile. They were subject to poisonous gasses. They could starve or die of dehydration. They could age and...." McCoy looked sharply at John.

_Long life? Never aging? Shit! What a nightmare that would have been to add to the Augmenter's list of 'near perfection'._

"You're saying that this _wasn't_ a virus?" Jim asked, fear in his voice. "That UAC was doing more genetic experiments and that they found a fucking _fountain of youth_?"

"UAC found that the aliens on Mars had a 24th chromosome," John said tiredly, wrapping his arms around himself. "The UAC scientists on Olduvai were experimenting with it on humans. To make more Augments, since the aliens were super strong, super fit, super intelligent and healed almost instantly. No disease, no genetic disorders, no viruses, no cancers... but it _wasn't_ a natural condition, even for _them_. Sam had figured the aliens been experimenting on Mars with the 24th chromosome as well. Only, the dead, focalized remains said that _that_ story didn't go so well, either. Their whole society was destroyed all at once. I know Sam thought their experiment with the chromosome was why. Hell, there's no telling where _they_ got it. Maybe from _another_ site, ancient even to them."

McCoy shook his head, rubbing at his temples. "So, aliens were experimenting on their own Augments and were wiped out by their own experiments. Then we humans do the exact same thing. Typical."

"In our case, it turned some of those experimented on into mutated monsters," John said quietly, a haunted look in his eyes. "They were ripping each other up, eating each other. Passing the 'infection' around, because it was self-replicating. The UAC always knew the experiments were going on. Sam didn't. She was archeology, not genetics. But she realized what they'd been doing when she downloaded the info from their computers to the data disks and got a look. That was her assignment, to save all that info that hadn't been downloaded to the UAC yet. They lied about the whole tragedy for all those years, until the Federation found out about it. But by then, it was years too late for those on Olduvai, or the ARK complex. They never had a chance."

John hugged himself tighter, his eyes unfocused as he dug through his memories.

"Sam had some sort of notion that people were turning into monsters because of the blackness in their soul." He laughed humorlessly. "Isn't that a joke. Mine was just a black as anyone elses, even then. But I was dying, and not from the virus. Got hit by a ricochete as we fought off the poor, mutated bastards that were coming for us. I'd just gotten Sam down the ARK to Earth and was trying to get her out safe. I was bleeding out."

"And she injected you with the chromosome serum she'd been ordered to recover," Jim said. "To try to save your life. But you didn't implode into something hungry for blood and human brains."

"No. I didn't. I got Sam out and went back in and set the nuclear fail-safe on a timer so I could escape before it went off. We were cut off permanently from Mars with the ARK's destruction. There wasn't anything left in the ARK complex to save. Anyone not infected had already been killed. Then, when the authorities were on the way, I left Sam there. And she lied for me."

John shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "We both knew what they'd do to me. The only actual sample of the 24th chromosome serum that had made it to Earth. One that didn't leave me a gibbering, howling, fucked up monster. They couldn't kill me, or even hurt me much. But they could find a way to keep me forever. A never-ending lab rat."

John sighed. "We didn't even know about the anti-aging part of it at the time. Sam never knew what happened to me. She never knew about that part."

McCoy shook his head in sympathy. "You never saw her again, did you?"

"No. Never. I couldn't even let them get a hint I was still alive. There was nothing I could do for her, except stay away."

"And you don't age. At all," McCoy added.

"I do, some." John shrugged, looking tired, a weariness behind his eyes that told McCoy more than his words could. "I was twenty-six when Sam gave me the shot. Over two-hundred years later and I look more thirty-six, thirty-seven. More your age."

"I'm thirty-three," McCoy said gruffly as he sat in the chair next to Jim. "Don't age me before my time. But even if I believe all this, which I'm not saying I do, how come I look so much like you? Even if we are related, from years back, each generation would make us _less_ alike, not more."

"I have a theory for that," John said. "You know your genealogy? How far back?"

"A ways," McCoy said cautiously.

"You know your mother and father were fourth cousins, right?"

"Yes," McCoy admitted reluctantly.

"Wait, wait!" Jim interjected holding up a hand. He looked at McCoy with surprised amusement. "You mean, you're your _own_ fifth cousin?"

"Shut up," McCoy grumbled. "It's not that uncommon."

"Both David and Patience are descended from a Horatio McCoy," John continued, "that had identical twin sons. Each son had a family, and grandchildren, and so on. Eventually, the families lost touch. One stayed in Georgia, your father's family, and one family moved to Louisiana, your mother's. Fourth cousins meet, fall in love, have a son that's the clone of his great-great-great-great-grandfather. Simple. Happens all the time, most people just don't realize it."

"Hold on," McCoy said. He'd seen that name on reports and descendant lists of his family. The long lost great-something-Grandpa Horatio, that left his young kids one day and never came back. Family had always figured he died in one of the side-wars left over from the Genetics rebellion. "You're saying _you_ are  _Horatio McCoy_?"

"One and the same." John smiled.

"Sure, and I'm just tickled to meet you," McCoy said sarcastically. "No thanks for that name, by the way. Only Jim has a worse middle name than I do." He held back a grunt as Jim elbowed him, gently, in the ribs. "Which still doesn't explain--"

"Xenopolycythemia," John said, his smile disappearing.

McCoy froze, and he could feel Jim do the same next to him.

"Where do you think that came from, Doctor McCoy?" John asked casually, watching McCoy closely. "A broken, mutated spot on your DNA, right at the end, right? Right where a whole new string of information could be stored, or had broken off. Maybe even enough information for a 24th chromosome? Have you had David's DNA checked? Did you even tell him about the Xenopolycythemia? No. Bet you didn't. Didn't want to upset him, since you've been cured of it anyway. But you _did_ check?"

He had. He hadn't even told Jim about it, but he'd gotten a sample of his father's DNA and checked it on the sly. It was a huge breach of privacy. Against everything he'd swore an oath to uphold. But he'd needed to know for sure that his father was okay. And there had been an abnormality at the same spot as McCoy's faulty gene. Just nothing that amounted to anything. Just another broken spot, just like his was now broken and useless. He should feel bad about invading his father's privacy that way, but he didn't.

John tilted his head, his eyes on McCoy.

"Yes. You did. But your mother has long passed. I was sorry to hear that. She was one of my descendants as well. She may have carried other parts of the defective gene, which she got from me. And somehow, some way, you inherited not only the problem spot, but a double dose of me as well." John shrugged. "Maybe what you inherited was trying to recreate me in some way. 'Repaired' you, to _my_ DNA specifications as an embryo? Who knows? If I understood what it does, how it works, I'd have turned it off long before now. What I do know is that we share most of the same DNA, with only some minor variables. You're _My_ clone, in every way that counts, except for the curse I carried with me from Olduvai."

John leaned forward, his tone grim. "Count your blessings, Leonard, that you didn't get the 24th chromosome. Because living like this is a damned hell all its own. I've spent _years_ trying to figure out how to turn it off. Avoiding staying in one place too long, because everyone notices I don't age like they do. I _never_ intended to have kids."

John sighed and rubbed at his face, his voice sounding defeated. "Fell in love when I was fifty-three. I had been on the run for over half of my life by then. Tracy wasn't supposed to be able to have kids. When she conceived, it scared the shit out of me. But they were normal. Healthy. And I had hopes they would stay that way. When Tracy died in that car accident, I realized I couldn't stay and raise the boys. And I couldn't take them on the run with me. They weren't even four years old yet. So, I left our sons with my in-laws, and never went back. All I could do was send them money, from time to time. Arrange for good things to happen, from afar. But it was never going to be enough. It never was."

_And it still hurts him, even to tell the story. But can this really be true? He's right about my DNA. That shit came from somewhere. But it's not like it never shows up in a normal population. It's just so rare._

"Either you're telling the truth," Jim said, his fingers drumming restlessly on the table top, "or you've done some hellacious research to convince us your story's true. Why would you care what McCoy, or I, believe? Why tell us all this?"

"I want you to understand that I never wanted Leonard, or you, to come to harm over this," John said closing his eyes. "I didn't _mean_ to get you in such a fucked-up mess, but I'd do it again to keep _anyone_ from finding out just exactly what UAC was playing with all those years ago. Leonard's ID was the best way in and out that I've had in years. Getting in myself was the only way I could make _sure_ everything that had been rediscovered on Olduvai was destroyed. They were never really supposed to suspect that Leonard had done any of it. But we can see how fucked up that got."

"Okay, you rescued us," Jim shrugged. "So, now, take us home."

"I plan to, eventually. But I need your help," John admitted. "The question is, do you believe me?"

"It's a good story, I'll have to give you that much," Jim said answered for them both. "But we've heard good stories before. Doesn't make any of it true. Why do you care if we believe you or not?"

"Because, when you go back, no matter what happens, you can't breathe a word of this. If you do, Section 31 will have you in for interrogation in seconds. If they suspect I'm still alive, they'll do anything to get at me. And... I need your help."

John stood and pulled off his shirt. "And I can't ask you for such a favor if you don't really believe what I've told you is true."

_Okay, we're not so much alike after all._ McCoy thought with chagrin. _Guy's ripped, and has muscles on his muscles! Damn... but I've got to get in better shape. But what the hell--?_

Stepping back from the other side of the table, John pulled a large knife from a belt sheath.

Both McCoy and Jim stood quickly, stepping back from their side of the table and going into a defensive stance.

"Only one way to really show you it's true," John said, taking a huge breath then letting it out.

With both hands, John shoved the sharp end of the knife into his chest, burying it up to the hilt in one, quick but insanely powerful thrust.

"Shit!" McCoy breathed, startled.

_Dead center! In the fucking_ heart! McCoy grabbed his medkit and ran around the table. _I've got_ nothing _for this! Too much damage, too deep. And no medbay to get him to._

Both he and Jim rushed to John's side as he wobbled and fell. Grabbing his arms, they barely kept him from landing face down on the cold metal floor. They managed to lie him on his back, even while John fought to push them away.

"Don't move! Damn it! Hold still!" McCoy ordered.

_He's ripping himself up on that blade! How is he even still conscious?_

McCoy ran his scanner over the wound and got readings that didn't make any sense. John grabbed McCoy's arm.

"Watch!" John said with a great gulp of air, his back arching.

McCoy tried to pull away, but John's grip wouldn't let him.

"Bones! Look!" Jim exclaimed, his eyes on John's chest as he held John's shoulder down.

The knife moved up a centimeter out of the wound, with a tiny trickle of blood. Frozen, McCoy held his breath and watched as slowly, but steadily, the knife was pushed out bit by bit. When most of the blade had been freed, it toppled to the side pulling itself the rest of the way out.

Jim moved aside as it fell, letting the knife hit the floor with a loud clang. The knife looked clean.

And, underneath the thin, bloody line left on John's chest, McCoy could swear he saw the skin close up and the edges knit together. He didn't realize he was shaking until John let go of his forearm. John smiled up at him.

"See? I've been telling you the truth," John said tiredly.

McCoy reached down carefully and felt the spot that had gone from bloody and bruised to clear and untouched. There was no wound there. No scar. Just a tiny smear of blood that even now seemed to be fading into John's body. Everything in McCoy wanted to kidnap the man himself and drag him off to a medical lab somewhere to find out what made him tick. That scared him.

_He's right about one thing. If anyone knows who he is, he'd be trapped in a lab forever. And heaven help us if anyone can recreate the perfect soldier from him. Or produce kings, despots or tyrants that never die. Hundreds of generations of enslaved populations, to those who can't be killed and don't age like everyone else._ McCoy shivered.

Jim sat down heavily beside John. "You're fucking crazy for someone who's lived long enough to know better," he said shakily. "Don't tell me you've done that before."

"No. But I've had it done to me a few times. Trading with pirates can get a bit dangerous. Of course, that meant I had to kill them, so word that I didn't die wouldn't get out. But," John shrugged as he sat up, "they killed me first. _Now_ , do you believe me?"

"You've got me convinced," Jim admitted. "But believing doesn't mean trusting. Or that you'll have our help with... whatever it is you think you need us for."

"Fair enough." John sat up and looked at McCoy. "What about you? Do _you_ believe me?"

_Do I? How can I tell that anything he's said is true,_ McCoy wondered? _He could be a damned shape shifter, and how would I know? But what has he got to gain by feeding me the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever been served?_

McCoy didn't know. But his gut told him John was telling the truth. There was just something in John's eyes that spoke of a man living a life he didn't want. Who'd been forced to run from the life he did want, because to claim it would be to put a whole universe at risk.

McCoy nodded and told John the truth. "I do."

"Good." John closed his eyes. "One thing I do get is tired, once the adrenalin wears off. I know you both still have questions, but I think our day has been long enough already. My men will let me know when Havalack makes it back to the city. Chit'wren and his men won't talk. No one that I do business with knows that I'm here. We're safe for the night in this berth. You have your choice of cabins in the back. I'll show you where they are. Like I said, I said goodbye to my crew before all this started, so it's just the three of us." John smiled a bit sadly at them. "You can lock your doors behind you, of course. I'll knock when it's time for breakfast."

McCoy looked to Jim, who nodded in agreement.

_Good, because he's right. I don't even know how long Jim and I have been awake, and we'll run out of steam pretty soon._

They followed John to the back of the ship. It looked clean and well maintained, and McCoy could see a bit of longing in Jim's eyes as he took in every bit of the ship that they passed. So, McCoy figured it must have all the state of the art equipment in it. Tomorrow, he wanted to see what John used for a medbay.

They picked a cabin with a double bed and locked the door behind them. It had a 'fresher attached. By the time they had cleaned up, put their clothes in the small, old fashioned sonic cleaner and fell into bed, McCoy found himself totally worn out. As Jim settled in his usual position at McCoy's side in the dark, McCoy could swear he could hear Jim's thoughts humming away inside his husband's head.

"What do you think he wants us to help him with?" McCoy whispered, rubbing Jim's back as Jim nestled his head in the crook of McCoy's neck.

"I don't know, but..." Jim sighed. "I don't think he plans on coming back from it."

"Why?"

"He said goodbye to his crew," Jim said softly. "This ship can be flown by one for the easy stuff, but a good working crew takes about six. And whoever this crew was, they've taken very good care of this ship. Like they loved it. That means this was their home. They were probably John's friends as well. He didn't say he tossed them out, dumped them somewhere, or paid them off. He said goodbye. He didn't want them involved in whatever he plans to do, because he doesn't think he's coming back."

"Do we help him, if that's the case?"

"I don't know, Bones," Jim sighed. "We need to get home. Everyone is probably frantically trying to find us. We have a responsibility to get home and to take John in for what he did. But he's right. If Section 31 gets him there's no telling what they'll do to him. With him. He seems to think that there's something important left to do, now that he's destroyed what was left of Olduvai. I think we should hear him out, then decide. It may be... It may be Starfleet needs to take second place to whatever his plans are. Would you be okay with that?"

"Yes," McCoy breathed. "I could be, depending what he wants to do. Don't get me wrong, I love serving in Starfleet. I don't plan on quitting anytime soon. But they make mistakes. Sometimes bad ones. And Section 31 scares the shit out of me."

"Yeah, me too. How do you feel about being related to him?"

McCoy thought about it for a moment. "Don't know. He's a stranger. I think I'm still weirded out that he looks so much like me."

"You're prettier," Jim said, a smile in his voice.

"You'd _better_ think so," McCoy huffed, hugging Jim close. "I feel sorry for him, more than anything else. I can't imagine outliving everyone I loved. Over and over. He must be awfully strong to have stayed sane."

"Or, maybe, has had hope all this time that he could cure this chromosome thing and be human again. I know," Jim said softly, "that if it was me living that kind of life, hope that I could be normal again would be the only thing keeping me going. Otherwise, I'd end it myself."

"Do you think that's what he intends? After his last jobs are finished off?"

"Maybe."

"If he can't be killed, how would he even--"

"Take this pretty ship and sail her into the sun," Jim said sadly. "It's what I'd do."

McCoy leaned over and kissed Jim's temple.

_And I pray you'll never have to. Either of us._

 

***

 

Jim sat at the cockpit of _The Dragon_ , watching the workers in the docking area come and go. He could see fairly far across the packed dirt docking yard in spots where other ships didn't block his view. He could see the mountains in the distance. The cockpit of _The Dragon_ was about four stories high, so was not the tallest ship there. There were several dozen ships around them, of all types and models. Some Jim suspected were put together from pieces that were never meant to work together. He'd awoken a few hours ago, before dawn flowed over the area, making what had been graceful and imposing ships by night turn into dusty and care-worn machines in the harsh light.

_Daylight always makes things look different. People as well as ships and cities._

He'd left McCoy asleep, had eaten breakfast like a starving man, and had taken his own personal tour of the ship. John had left everything unlocked but his own quarters and the ship's computer. Jim had tried various ways to hack into the ship's systems, having nothing else to do in those early hours. But nothing had worked. _The Dragon_ didn't look high tech, but it was. There was no comparison to it and the _Blue-Hawk_.

_If I'd become a pirate, this is what I'd fly. John must be very, very good at it by now. Or maybe I'm assuming too much. Not everyone here is a pirate. He could be totally upright and legit in his business dealings. I'd heard of the Blue-Hawk being on the list for those wanted by Starfleet for pirating. But not The Dragon. So, maybe he's found a way to live on the edge and keep his soul untarnished. Not even all of us in the Federation could claim that._

So now he just sat and thought, waiting for McCoy or John to join him.

He heard the steps coming up the ladder to the cockpit from the lower hallway before he saw the head of black hair top the ladder. Jim schooled his features into his best poker face and turned back to the large cockpit window. He was soon joined at his vigil by the sound of someone settling into the co-pilot's seat.

"Here you are, Handsome. Good mornin'!"

Jim's resolve gave in and he smiled slightly at the bad Georgian accent. "'Morning, John. That accent wasn't even close. Don't quit your day job, whatever that is."

Jim turned to look at John, who chuckled. In the light of Zephane's sun, John looked less like McCoy than he had last night. But Jim still thought he'd be one of the few who'd see the differences. John was dressed in all black, his dark hair cut liked McCoy's but spikier. He sat back in the padded co-pilot's seat and nonchalantly put his feet up on the control board and leaned back. Something only a Captain could do in his own ship.

"Sorry, kid," John chuckled, his real accent coming through. It was a strange mix of various planets and dialects, probably having been picked up in bits and pieces over a long period of time. "Had to try it at least once."

"First, I'm no _'kid'_ ," Jim said casually, eyes still on the area outside the ship. "Only two people get to call me that, and you're not either of them. Call me Jim. Second, I knew who you were before you got all the way up the ladder."

John smiled, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh, and how'd you know that, _Jim_?"

Jim turned to look at John. "To strangers you may look exactly alike, but not to me. And you don't sound or move like him."

"I get that my acting voice sucks, but how do I move differently?"

"You move like a soldier. He moves like a Healer. Different priorities, different focus, different body language."

John laughed. "Okay, I can go with that. You know him pretty well, then."

"We _are_ married."

John snorted. "Believe me, being married doesn't mean a lot to some people. Most of the time it seems to be more a business partnership than an intimate one. But I think you love him, so I heartily approve of my great-great-great-great-grandson's choice of life partner."

Jim shook his head. "That you're really related to him is hard to believe, but heaven help me, I do. If my First Officer asked me to expand on that, I'm not sure I could tell him why. And thanks, I guess. Not that we need anyone's approval."

"Nor should you," John said. He pulled his feet off of the control board and punched some buttons Jim figured dealt with communications transmission. "First off for this morning, you need to see what you're facing if you go back to the Federation."

A holo came up at a table behind the seats. A computer interface, John could pull up all kinds of data and visuals on it. An expensive edition to a ship that most couldn't afford. What came up would look like a thousand shimmering, intertwined spider webs to those who didn't recognize a communication's web. It was a representation of the live system of moving data, one that included connections to various sub-space arrays for streaming and data packets.

John touched one side of a small strand and the holo zoomed into one particular web, which was then highlighted in red. Jim leaned in and studied its data-signature closely.

"That's _Starfleet's_ comm system," Jim said, shocked. "You've got it mapped."

_No one sees those streams but Starfleet and members of the Federation Council!_

"And that's not all," John said. He typed something into the console's surface.

Thousands of diamond shaped icons, several layers deep and tagged with small symbols that followed them on and off the screen, moved like a glittering rain of crystals. Jim knew each one of them was a data-packet, like the ones the Enterprise regularly received and sent. All of them tagged with their origin and destination points. John could not only see all of Starfleet talking to itself, but see where the data was going to and coming from.

Just like what Uhura saw when she chose to look at that data stream on her console rather than listen to it arrive. Jim had seen the same thing over her shoulder hundreds of times.

Jim held his breath as John typed some more. A few icons were captured and copied, then passed to a row at the bottom of the screen. John touched one, and it opened up, showing several files of documents. All of them marked as 'classified'.

Jim groaned as he let out his breath. "You've not only hacked into Starfleet's comm system, but you've hacked our files."

"Jim, I've been in Starfleet's system for as long as they've had one." John sighed. "Every time it's updated, a back door or weak spot gets over written. But that doesn't always close them. Sometimes it just hides those spots from outsiders, or even the programmers themselves. You can't see them from the outside, but if you know about them you can use them. And I've got a couple of hundred years of updates hiding my favorite spots. Not even the Vulcan's could find them now."

"Shit," Jim said, closing his eyes as a sudden feeling of loss and weariness overcame him.

_It must be how he faked orders for Bones' apparent transfer to the Phoenix Complex. Just grab a form, refill the contents with whatever information he wanted, then send it where he needed it to go. That was really Admiral Bellamy's signature on the document, only copied from something else he'd written and sent._

_John could rip the Federation apart from here. We could never trust another order, ever again. Never know what information he'd sold to someone else._

_Or who he'd let use his back doors, for their own purposes._

"John," Jim began, his voice low but as deadly serious as his glare at John, "you _know_ I can't let this go. I can't leave you with the ability to --"

"Sabotage, or sell whatever I find out about Starfleet, through my back doors," John interrupted. He too was deadly serious now. No games. His eyes bored into Jim's. "I _know._ That's one of the reason's I'm showing you this. First, _understand_ that if I wanted to do any of that, I could have at any time for the last 150 years or so. I may have used it to keep tabs on things I've left at home, but I've never used it for nefarious purposes. Well..." John amended with a sheepish shrug, "just this _once_ , concerning the Olduvai situation. And second, I wanted you to know that if you agree to help me finish my next two objectives, I'll give you the location of _all_ the back doors I know about, to take home with you. Starfleet can then seal them up at their leisure."

_Can I trust his word on that? Would he really give up all of them?_

"And if we _don't_ agree to help?" Jim watched John carefully.

John shrugged again, then shook his head. "Then no hard feelings. I take you someplace where you can catch a ride home, see that no one hijacks you on the way, and some day, soon, you'll get a packet from me with the information. As a wedding present for you and my grandson. Just, if you help me, you'll get it faster."

_He's telling the truth. I can feel it. Either way, he's going to let us plug up the holes in our communication systems. Because he doesn't plan on going on as he has before. He won't need any of it anymore._

"You don't plan to make it back," Jim accused. "From whatever you're planning to do. You're tying up loose ends."

"What?" John said, with a snort and a small smile that didn't look at all convincing. He walked back over to the co-pilot's chair and sat down in a lazy sprawl. "You think I have a death wish or something?"

Jim tilted his head, crossed his arms and leaned against the console. He said, matter-of-factly, "Yes."

John looked away. "It's not that simple."

"Then explain to me how it's not that simple."

John took a breath and shook his head. He then turned back to the display. "When Leonard's up. Until then, there's something else I wanted you to see."

It took John only a few minutes to bring up files from the mass of moving packets and open them up for Jim. One was a report from the head of Security at the Phoenix Complex. The other was a warrant.

 

 

_Wanted: Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Lieutenant Commander, Starfleet_

_Level: High Priority Acquisition AIP-3887_

_Charges:_

_Theft of First-Class-A Restricted Artifacts_

_\- with possible attempt to sell such to hostile entities_

_Illegal access to restricted area_

_Illegal access to classified documents_

_Forgery of Starfleet Orders_

_Assault on Starfleet personnel_

_Attached: see file for all personal information on subject._

 

Jim recognized the Acquisition code. AIP-3887 was "Alive If Possible" and the number code meant that lethal force was authorized if McCoy fought back. Which could mean if he shot back, tried to run or even just took a swing at them, any of those actions could get him killed.

_They_ never _put that on a warrant, unless they're ready to kill. They don't care if he gets pulled in for questioning or not._

"That was sent out just hours after I got off of Mars, to all the Starfleet Security forces there," John said softly. "If Havalack hadn't kidnapped you when he did, Starfleet would have pulled him in by now."

"But they have to know it wasn't him!" Jim protested. "He was on Mars, but he was in plain sight all week. I was even there with him those last couple of days."

"That's not a regular Starfleet order. Which is why I think Section 31 got in on this early," John said. "A lot earlier than we... I... thought they would be. I didn't think they knew about me. Now, I'm sure they do. They want to draw me in, if they can." John looked at Jim. "And we both know what they'd want from me, if they know I'm out here."

"They know you're related?" Jim asked with surprise.

"No, probably not. At least, not for sure," John admitted. "They may guess at it. I've tried not to leave a trail through the years. But when I ran, after blowing up the ARK in Nevada, I couldn't go back and erase everything the RRTS had on me. It was all I could do to stay off the radar. It took me years to get into a position where I could go back and erase my trail. By that time, the RRTS had changed commands and I could never find out where any of my old files and records, and blood work, went." John looked at Jim sheepishly. "It's not like I can get any cosmetic surgery. You've seen how I heal. Everything goes back to the original specs, anytime I try to make any changes. Oh, I can grow a beard, grow my hair long, color it. Wear colored contact lenses. I've even gotten good at using makeup and paints." John shook his head. "But I can't change my DNA or my fingerprints. And enough people have seen my real face through the years that there might be a trail. And I wasn't kidding about Leonard's DNA being just _this_ close to mine. So, if anyone has seen a picture of me and Leonard, and got the idea to compare our DNA samples, they'd have a pretty good idea of what it means."

Jim sighed.

_He's right. If anyone at Section 31 thinks they're related, and John's out here using Bones' ID, then what do they have to lose by bringing Bones in? Because they'd_ still _be looking for John._ _Even if John didn't give a shit about Bones, it might get his attention. Slow him down. Heck, they throw Bones' picture out there, someone might turn John in just for any possible reward on Bones._

_If they think they can get the stolen Olduvai information back, and get John as well, they'd be hitting the jackpot._

_What's the life of one CMO compared to that?_

"I take you home now, and you'll both be facing that. And you'll _have to_ tell them all about me, to get him out of trouble. That won't leave me much choice in the matter," John continued, looking at Jim, resolution in his eyes. "I _won't_ be taken in. But if you stick with me, maybe we can clean this all up, for once and for all."

"How?" Jim asked.

Just then, McCoy called up from the lower level. "Hey, anyone up there? Where the _hell_ did you all go?"

"We're both here, Bones," Jim said, walking over to the ladder well and yelling down.

"Tell him we'll meet him in the galley," John told Jim. "Might as well get comfortable while we hash this out."

"Coming down!" Jim warned McCoy, before he started the down the ladder.

_Time to see what John's got planned. Because we're both in this now, up to our necks, and it's only going to get deeper on us._

 

***

 

Leonard McCoy sat at the galley table, hands wrapped around his coffee cup, eyes on the cooling liquid inside. He'd listened to John and Jim catch him up on their situation. And now, he was pissed.

_God damned Section 31. For not officially existing, they're sure hell bent on ruining my life. First Marcus attacks and kills a huge chunk of my crew, then Jim dies after fixing their sabotage of the ship. Now, they blame me for something they damn well know I_ didn't do _, so they can try to capture a super-soldier who can't be killed by conventional means. Just so they can get to his DNA secrets. Make a whole fucking platoon of them, no matter how many they have to sacrifice along the way. All to 'save' the rest of us from some future threat._

_Someone has to stop them! They can't just do what they damn well please, just because they fucking feel like it! _

Jim's hand on his arm cut into his thoughts. Jim squeezed his arm gently.

"John said he's got a plan," Jim said softly. "I say we hear him out. Then decide."

McCoy sighed and leaned back, then nodded tersely. "I'll listen."

"Good," John said, looking relieved. "There's two things I need to do. First, is to get something I took from Olduvai to the fence who's waiting for me to deliver."

"What?" Jim said angrily. "You told us you destroyed _everything_!"

"I did," John said, holding up his hands, "but Abeowa doesn't know that. Let me explain. Abeowa fronted me some of the money, and escape ships, I needed to get clear of the Federation once I finished with Olduvai. Abeowa is one of the biggest crime lords in this sector. He deals not only on this side of the neutral zone, but dabbles in deals with both the Klingons, the Romulans, and the old Orion Consulate. He's _big league_ ," John said with feeling. "He deals in not only contraband but slaves as well. I've managed to stay out of his way for the majority of my time out here, but he's damned hard to ignore. His men have taken my cargo more than once, on threat of blowing me and my crew out of space itself. And he's killed some of my crew in the past, just for stumbling into some of his operations."

John's eyes grew hard. "And for that, I'm going to _burn_ his ass. But I needed some of his ships to get out of Sol's system after Olduvai. So, I made him an offer."

"And that was?" Jim said, his eyes just as hard as John's.

"Abeowa's a Hekaran, and it totally obsessed with anything that has to do with the _Seeders_. You've heard of them?"

"I have," McCoy admitted, as Jim nodded. "It's one of those topics that medical cadets, and officers, like to debate endlessly. Most of the intelligent life in this quadrant seems to be based on a basic humanoid form consisting of," McCoy ticked off the list in his mind as he ran through it, "a bilateral symmetry, bipedal with an upright posture, two arms, two legs, hands, manipulative digits, feet, a similar thorax design, a neck and a head with a brain, two to four sexes, and a similar basic genetic coding. It's been postulated for hundreds of years that we've all been 'seeded' on class M planets by one ancient race. That race is usually referred to as _'The Seeders'_ for lack of a better term. They're supposedly a reason why we're all close enough in DNA and structure that human's and Vulcans, among others, can interbreed with minimal problems. Usually."

"And they're also been theorized to be the same culture as _'The Progenitors'_ , or _'The Preservers'_ ," Jim added. "Whoever it was that took bits of Terran, Vulcan and other cultures and transplanted them to other worlds that we've been running across. They're certainly not developing parallel cultures on their own."

"That's them," John said. "Abeowa's obsessed with them. Any sign or remains of any of them, he collects. And once he heard about the ancient city that the Olduvai team uncovered--"

"Found out from who?" Jim asked, his voice tight.

"From me," John admitted. "I needed to get his attention. I told him just enough to let him think I could get in, get some good artifacts, and deliver them to him. For a price. So, we set up the infiltration. I set up what I needed to get me in. He set up the escape, once I got off planet. And now, he's still waiting for the delivery. And I plan to deliver it to him. But not what he thinks."

John got up and opened a drawer in the galley. He pulled out the PADD they had seen before and a small item wrapped in cloth. He sat back down. He unwrapped the item and McCoy wasn't sure he could tell what it was. It was about the size of a communicator, but blue and thinner.

"This is a data drive used on the Olduvai project, by the UAC scientists in 2046," John said softly as he set it down carefully between them. "It's one of the three Sam had used to recover the computer files from the affected area. It's all she'd been able to recover before it all went to hell. They were dropped as we fought our way out of Olduvai and through the ARK, down to Earth. The Phoenix Complex uncovered them only a few days before I went in after them."

"You'd been waiting for word that they'd been found," Jim accused.

"Yes. I knew most of the complex had been destroyed by time, the earthquakes that terraforming Mars caused, and whatever damage that last bomb I'd sent through the ARK left behind. But these were small enough they could have survived. And they contained the last 30 days of information the UAC scientists collected on their DNA experiments and the 24th chromosome. It's what UAC sacrificed everyone to retrieve. The information they never got, after all that we went through."

To McCoy, John looked haunted, lost in a past long gone.

_He's never forgotten or gotten over it. Maybe he can't forget. Or forgive._

"You can't give it to Abeowa," Jim said firmly. McCoy could see that Jim was ready to destroy the cube himself, right now, if he had to.

John smiled at Jim, then nodded at the cube. "It's just for show. The data chip was removed and destroyed at the scene. I just needed the case, because it'll read as the real thing. Since it is."

"Then why does Starfleet believe you took everything from the Olduvai dig, if this is all you came out with?" McCoy asked.

John's smile grew more amused. "I recycled everything they had. Including this case's original data chip. I rigged the recycler to work without recording. They'll only be able to tell it's been tampered with, but not that it was actually used."

"You _wanted_ Starfleet to think you made it out of the Phoenix Complex with everything from Olduvai," Jim accused with surprise. "Why?"

"Because this..." John said, nudging the secure PADD toward Jim, "has something not usually revealed to Starfleet members, crew or captains. It has a homing device built into it. A secure PADD goes missing, Starfleet can remotely turn it on and trace it. It's programmed to look for an activation signal any time it gets near a Federation comm frequency, and signal its location. I've been blocking it since I got it out of Olduvai."

McCoy looked at Jim, who seemed to understand what John was saying.

Jim sat back and crossed his arms, smiling slightly. "Starfleet knows you have the PADD. You get close to Abeowa, with the chip that he thinks contains information on the Seeders and offer him the PADD as well _._ You get the PADD to ping its location just as you hand it and the data chip over to him. Starfleet comes running to take it, and the rest of the artifacts, back. Every Federation spaceship and starship in the vicinity of that PADD will get called in to pin that ship in. Take the crew alive and the ship undamaged. Abeowa gets caught with the data chip and the Federation takes him down."

McCoy looked back at John, who smiled evilly. "And you get your revenge," McCoy remarked.

"Not just that," John said. "Abeowa has been getting bolder and bolder in kidnapping and taking slaves. Those ships that have been going missing on the fringes? The victims weren't just blown into space. A lot of them he's sold across the border. Who knows what the Klingons and Romulans have done to those poor souls. And he's got more than a few fingers in Federation pies. He's into things that could bring the Federation down and put the Klingon's in power, in less than fifty years. Before I... before I lose my chance, I want him taken down. For _good_."

"Before you _die_ , you mean," Jim said.

"Wait, what's this about you dying?" McCoy asked John with surprise. "I thought that was your problem in the first place."

"He's been wrapping things up, like I thought," Jim said grimly to McCoy.

"Maybe. Or maybe I can just stop running," John said, leaning calmly back in his chair. "That cargo I stole from Havalack, before he could get it to Abeowa? The reason he was willing to kidnap me from Mars in order to get it back? It wasn't something huge, but it was something now almost as rare as anything from Vulcan. He made an illegal crossing over into the now 'off limit' Quarlian system. He came back with three doses of shimtree."

McCoy felt stunned. He'd honestly never expected to hear about that rare compound outside of the various research reports that were supposed to be classified and sealed. The stuff that almost killed him instead of making him a puppet of the Quarlians.

And McCoy knew what John intended to do with it.

"You're out of your mind!" McCoy said, suddenly out of his chair and pacing the small room. "You know what that'll _do_ to you? You know what it did to _me_ , don't you?"

McCoy could see plainly by the look on his face that John knew exactly what McCoy had gone through.

"I can see you've read the Federation reports," McCoy said angrily. "You _know_ that stuff almost ruined my life! I was damned lucky M'Benga had that virus figured out, and he and Spock gave me a chance to survive it! You don't _know_ what that stuff could do to you."

"It could _kill_ me!" John growled with frustration. "And if that's the best it can do for me, I'll take it and be _grateful!"_

"And if it turns you into one of those monsters those other people became?" McCoy argued back.

"Then someone needs to put me out of my misery, for once and for all," John shot up out of his chair, and faced McCoy, his hazel eyes flashing. "You don't _understand_. I can't take this anymore! I can't die naturally, like my family, my friends, _everyone_ I've ever loved! I can't be killed like everyone else can. I can't settle down and have a normal life, because someone, somewhere, may find out what I am and try to use me as a lab rat! I have to hide my face all the time, in case some technology I don't know is around records me and it pings Section 31's radar.”

John shook his head. “I can't volunteer for Starfleet, and be of some God damned _use_ to society because I can't trust them. And since I don't age like they do, they'd grow to fear me and what I could do in the future if I rose too far up in the ranks. I can't even trust the Vulcans to understand and to hide me for the centuries it'd take before I finally age out of this curse. I have no friends there, no one I can trust. Hell, I'd have traded places with _anyone_ on Vulcan when it went down, just to save one life as mine ended. Because then..."

John's voice caught, and McCoy was stunned to see John's eyes tear up. "Because then at least all this wasted life I've lived would have been of _some_ use. Had _some_ purpose! Other than driving me slowly insane, until I become a monster on the inside instead of the outside.

No one said a word, as John took a breath and swallowed thickly. He looked away.

"Because this is my _last_ hope. I have nothing else to wait for, to research, to discover that I think could help." John started pacing again. "So, I promised myself when I read those reports on what it did to you, that I'd give this one last shot. All or nothing. Because the one friend I have left in this universe will be gone soon. I can't wait any longer. I can feel the insanity coming. Once I give up on being human, there's nothing to hold back on the darkness that tries to tell me that if I can't have what I want, I should take it and become a _real_ monster. And I can't let that happen, or everything Sam did for me will have been wasted."

Shaking, John turned his back on them.

_He's right,_ McCoy thought, feeling shaken to his core. _That hell of a continued existence that Jim and I talked about last night, he's lived. And he's trying so damned hard to find his way out of this curse without hurting anyone. If we don't help, he'll try the shimtree by himself, and if it goes wrong, who will be there to end his pain? To keep him from becoming everything he fears?_

_Because if it doesn't work and he doesn't mutate or die, he may not come out sane. And then he may not have the determination to, as Jim said,_ 'take this pretty ship and sail it into the sun.' _Then he really will be lost._

_And if he lives and come out normal again? The extra chromosome burned out of him?_

_Won't he need his friend? Won't he need his family?_

_Isn't that what I am? What we are?_

McCoy looked at Jim as he walked over and placed a hand on McCoy's back. Jim's eyes, always expressive, told him _'it's your decision, but you know what I think we should do'._

"Okay," McCoy said, taking a huge breath as he walked over to John, took his shoulder and turned him so he could look him in the face. There was hope there, but fear as well. "We'll help you. With getting Abeowa taken down. With administering the shimtree, and finding a telepath who'll help. I imagine you've got the specs on recreating M'Benga's virus from all the hacking you've done, or you wouldn't be ready to take the next step. Get us to a good lab and I can prepare it for you. I'll administer the shimtree and oversee the results."

John smiled weakly and nodded at them both. "Thank you. But if it mutates me?"

"I'll end you myself," Jim said, voice firm with a decision already made. "I won't let you hurt anyone. Or get loose to cause havoc. I _promise_ you that."

John closed his eyes and sighed with obvious relief. "Then let's get this show on the road. We have a slaver to take down."

 

***

 

John the Dragon stood at the end of _The Dragon_ 's ramp, ready to walk out onto the surface of the small, oxygenated moon that John had chosen for the exchange. Abeowa would get what he thought was an ancient data disk and John the Dragon would get his pay. Or what was left of his expected pay after all the negotiations he'd had to do with Abeowa. After the Hekaran had discovered that John hadn't actually come away with anything from the ancient aliens themselves, he'd been furious. It had taken John a lot of talking to convince Abeowa that the data drive from the old UAC complex was even better. After all, Abeowa would have to do his own research on any of the alien remains, found so long ago, while the UAC had had some time with the artifacts themselves. The data drives could hold the proof that the Seeders, the Preservers and the Progenitors were all the same species!

John had even offered Abeowa the secure, unhacked PADD that had been taken from the Phoenix Complex. That he'd offered to smooth over the fact that he'd stolen the shimtree meant for Abeowa from Havalack. John hadn't even argued when Abeowa had demanded that the price for the rare substance come out of John's pay. John hadn't argued, since the word was out that Abeowa had caught up with Havalack himself, and the thief hadn't fared well in the resulting firefight. John had had to admit to Abeowa that in letting him live, Abeowa was already being more than generous.

Not that John, Jim or Leonard, believed Abeowa. But it did get them the meeting.

_Give me the signal, Jim, so I can get this over with,_ John thought, feeling anxious and ready to go. Dressed in his pirate costume of all black clothing and cape, with the mask that had hidden his features for almost thirty-five years now, all he had to do was to walk toward the other ship, meet in the middle and make the trade. Data drive and PADD for three small credit chips with John's pay in Andorian, Orion and Tellarites credits.

Up on the wall of _The Dragon_ , a green light flickered.

_Pay attention kids, the show's on!_

He walked down and onto the moon's mossy surface, then marched with confidence toward Abeowa's ship. It was a new one that John hadn't seen before, which wasn't unusual when one dealt with Abeowa. The Hekaran uses ships like human's used socks, and the Hekaran had the money and power to do so.

John didn't smile when he saw Abeowa and two of his men walking up to meet him, although he wanted to. He'd been afraid that Abeowa wouldn't come himself and John had so wanted Abeowa to be at the meeting.

Once John had reached the halfway point, he stopped and waited for Abeowa to arrive. It only took a couple of minutes for the large Hekaran to march up to John, his two men flanking him.

"John the Dragon," Abeowa snarled, still visibly angry over the whole deal. "You have some nerve even asking for any pay at all, since you fucked up this job so thoroughly."

"Sometimes, even the best of plans go awry," John said pleasantly. "But in this case, not all is lost. You get your info and I get my pay. And we can then happily move on to our next project."

"Data disk and PADD first," Abeowa demanded, holding out a hand. "Then I'll see if you deserve any pay at all."

Abeowa's men pulled their weapons as John took two slow steps to Abeowa and handed over the small box with both items. Both the data drive and the PADD were there, as promised.

Abeowa picked up the blue data drive carefully and held it up to the light. "Data chip still there. Old tech, but not something we can't connect to. Eventually." He put the data drive down and picked up the PADD. "Although, this may be more useful in the long run. Unfortunately, I don't think either of these is worth what you want, John. In fact, I think you owe me a lot more, just for being so much trouble."

John tensed as Abeowa stepped back. "Kill him."

At Abeowa's word, the two men raised their guns and shot John. Not just once but three times. Two were body shots that burned through John like a touch of the sun, and the last was a head shot that turned the universe black as pain screamed around the edges of his mind before everything went dark. Dark, but never  _out._

And he was dead. Again. This time, for all of maybe four seconds, before he found himself on his back, on the spongy ground of the moon, staring at the large gas giant that it orbited.

_So far, so good,_ John thought as he felt his body repair itself. He was careful not to move. _What number death is this? Thirty? Thirty-three? Damn, I knew I'd lose count. At least Abeowa hadn't bothered to stop and take a look at my face. Not that it'd matter, where he's going. But still, one less complication to have to deal with._

He saw Abeowa's ship rise in the distance, heard _The Dragon_ take flight behind him. _The Dragon_ fired several shots at Abeowa's ship, and the larger ship took off after  _The Dragon_. John knew that if Abeowa couldn't board it, he'd destroy it.

_I'm going to miss her. She was a good ship. A lot of memories there. Artie, David and Jaycee, I hope you're resting in peace, because I'm finally gonna get that bastard, Abeowa, for you. Twi'negg, Darla, Oberon and Sinclair, I hope you're having a good life where I dropped you off. I'm glad you're safe, where you wanted to be. I just couldn't drag you all into this one, last job of mine. I hope you have a better life without me than you could have had as part of my crew._

John didn't know how long he lay there, unmoving, watching the large planet turn slowly through the burned and melted edges of his dragon mask until he heard the hum of another engine. A smaller one than _The Dragon_. But a faster one, for all that, from the sound of the drive. It landed a short distance from him. He stayed deathly still as he heard footsteps come up to him, but tensed. Then he relaxed as he saw who he'd expected to see all along.

"You done playin' possum?" Leonard McCoy asked as he bent over and ran a med-scanner over John's still form. "Or should Jim and I bury you, and see how long it takes you to dig yourself out?"

"Just playing it safe," John said, sitting up and taking the ruined mask off of his face and tossing it away. "That asshole could have doubled back, just to be sure."

McCoy gave him an appraising look. "You're gonna need to shave your head, since that head shot burned off all the hair on that side. Unless you _want_ to look lopsided."

"I'll give it some thought," John said with a laugh. "Wouldn't be the first head wound that had me shaving it all off to match."

He pushed up from the ground and turned to follow McCoy to the smaller ship. The _Kunling_ , a Vulcan word roughly translated as 'an unexpectedly lucky way', hadn't been used much. Its original paint was still unsinged by any atmospheric landing. It wasn't as big as _The Dragon_ , but it would be just as comfortable for the three of them. But instead of a ramp, John and McCoy stepped up a small ladder to step into the ship's main hold. Once the steps pulled up behind them and the hold sealed itself, John could feel the motion as they took off into space.

They both walked to the cockpit in silence. Inside, John saw Kirk in the pilot's seat. John plopped down into the co-pilot's seat, leaving McCoy to stand.

"Is she gone?" John asked Jim as he piloted them out of the system.

"Yeah," Jim said, glancing at John, his face showing his sympathy. "Your remote controls were a bit sticky, or I have been able to pilot it a bit better from here. She got to the outer rim of the second planet before she took the first shot from Abeowa's ship. After that, it was a race to get her to the transit lane before she took the kill shot."

"You made sure she went up completely, right?"

Jim gave John a slight smile. "I made sure her engines were wound up tight and hit the kill switch myself. There would have been nothing left for Abeowa to board, even if he'd wanted to. But I timed it so he thought it was his shot that set her off."

John reached over and punched the buttons to bring up the Federation's communications web. He focused on Starfleet's web and studied the readouts of the data packets and live links that were now traveling fast and furious in their vicinity.

"Starfleet's locked onto that PADD. I see two Starships and half a dozen other Fleet ships homing in on her. They took the 'heads up signal' we sent out yesterday, and now that they're in the area they'll be able to follow it on their own."

"You think Abeowa will take himself out instead of letting himself be captured?" McCoy asked John.

"Oh, hell no. Abeowa loves himself too much for that. He'll be planning his future escapes from Federation prison before they even get him back to Earth for a trial."

_And he'd better not escape,_ John thought. _Not when I have a few more ends to tie up. The bait's been set on the hook, now the right fish just has to find it and act like a fish._

John punched the vid closed, then leaned back in his chair. "Time to head for New Vulcan."

"On our way," Jim said, working the controls to get them to New Vulcan in a few days. Jim and McCoy had been busy the last couple of days, just as John had been. There were friends of theirs waiting on New Vulcan to help them, and John, get through the last of John's plans.

_Time to keep my promise to Jim about the Federation getting all the information on my back doors. Time to put that shimtree to use._

John was startled out of his thoughts when McCoy put his hand on John's shoulder and squeezed gently.

"You don't have to, you know," McCoy said gently, his voice close to John's ear.

John patted McCoy's hand. "Yes, I do. And it's okay, grandkid. It's for the best, whatever happens."

_Time for the endgame. Come what may._

 

***

 

 

John Samuel Grimm lay on the clean hospital bed, his arms and legs strapped down with heavy metal straps. Various tubes were connected to his body. There were many other tubes and needles ready to be applied, if they ever could be, once his treatment had started to take effect. If the shimtree even did anything at all. John had almost laughed the first time a Vulcan medical technician had tried to insert an old-fashioned needled in his arm to draw blood, since the new-fangled fluid aspirators weren't getting a large enough sample. The tech had no way to know that if a knife didn't do much to draw blood from John's body, a small needle had even less of a chance. The look of surprise and frustration on the young Vulcan's face had almost been worth the trip.

_Just as well they can't draw much. Just less that'll have to be destroyed later. And it makes no difference anyway. This is happening, no matter how safe they want it to be._

John had been surprised at the facility they'd given him for his use. There was even an older Vulcan, an Ambassador Spock, who had come in to oversee the operation. He worked closely with McCoy to set everything up for this one last experiment of John's.

_Those two have some important friends. Not only do I have even better facilities here than I do at my own place, but all the telepaths I could ever need to make the shimtree work._

 John had done everything he could think of to make sure that no matter what happened, he'd had everything taken care of. He'd made one last contact with his dear friend a few days ago. He'd let Jim send the data packet with all the information on Starfleet's communication back doors, anonymously, to Starfleet Security. When Jim had tested the system aboard the _Kunling_ the next day, all access channels had been closed. Then Jim had erased all data on the _Kunling_  and had the Vulcans wipe everything clean.

John had started dismantling all his property and assets months ago, in preparation for the time when he planned to use whatever shimtree he could buy or steal. All the credits he'd earned and invested, in all the various types of currency he'd collected it in, he'd lumped into two large accounts. Then yesterday he'd added Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy as joint owners. They wouldn't find out about that until his death, or lengthy coma. The Vulcan finance officers would make sure of that. They were nothing if not trustworthy with other people's credits.

_They deserve it all, in more ways than one. Leonard deserves it, just for all the shit he inherited from me. I just wish I could have done the same for my own boys. They didn't deserve the life I left them to. They didn't deserve to have me as their father._

The door opened and McCoy came in, several Vulcan Healers behind him. McCoy was carrying a small device, almost the size of a hypo, only with two nozzles. McCoy put his hand on John's arm.

"We're ready John. I have the shimtree, but you know it's going to have to do its job for a while, before we can inject the virus."

"I know. You can't get a virus into me while the chromosome still functions to repair me. And without the virus, the shimtree could change the DNA in my brain, rather than repair it. I could end up brain dead. I'll take that chance."

_Because you and Jim have both promised I won't live that way, and be a burden to everyone._ _And we all know the shimtree may have no effect at all. In that case, I still have one sexy little ship and the Terran sun to see me off._

"Let's get it done."

McCoy nodded and signaled for the Vulcans to come close. He then leaned over John, and with a sad smile, held the device up to John's nose. It was the only way to get the shimtree into his system, and hopefully, by-pass his body's response to fight it off. McCoy pushed the button, and the shimtree was forced far into his sinuses.

For a moment, John didn't think anything had happened except for a great pressure in his head. Turning to look at McCoy, John saw small stars glinting in the room like a rain of diamonds. The gem-like flashes thickened until they hid the room and the people behind a bright, glittering curtain.

_Pretty!_ John thought. _Like stars._

Then there were no thoughts at all.

 

 

***

 

Jim Kirk stood behind the clear partition, watching McCoy and the Vulcan Healers work on John. There really hadn't been much to see, just like when McCoy had undergone a similar treatment over a year ago. Then, Jim hadn't known if the love of his life would live, die or be caught somewhere in between. Now, he felt he was watching the fate of a new friend, family even, be decided right in front of him. And he felt just as helpless now as he had when it had been McCoy.

_It's been several hours now and at least he hasn't turned into some kind of monster. John said if it was going to happen, it'd probably happen very quickly. I hope that means that it won't happen at all._

But Jim was prepared. Against all rules in this private Vulcan Healing Center, Jim wore a phaser at his waist. If John transformed, Jim knew it would be a mercy to keep his promise and not let the last thing John did be to hurt someone. Or to live as a something less than the human he so desperately wanted to be.

Whether John was aware or not, his body twitched and moved in spasms. Jim didn't know if that was good or bad. He also worried about McCoy being in the same room with the shimtree and John. But there would have been no keeping his husband out. Not when John needed someone who cared, right there with him.

_They look so much alike, yet are so different. You don't have to know how long John's lived to see the time in his eyes weighing him down. I'm not sure I'd be that sane after all that time. I don't think I could be. I wonder if Spock worries about losing Uhura to time. No matter how long she lives, for a human, it won't be enough for him. I remember how hard it was thinking I'd outlive Bones if he died from the xenopolycythemia. Can anyone ever really get used to that idea?_

The door opened and Ambassador Spock and another man came in. The other man was human, older, with clear blue eyes and thinning gray hair. They both walked to the window to look at John. Jim didn't know who the other man was, but if Ambassador Spock had let him in, he was welcome.

"I see there has been no change," Ambassador Spock said.

"Not that I can tell. Bones has been in and out, but too distracted to tell me much," Jim said. "I can tell the healers have been working to push the shimtree into working and destroying the extra chromosome, but they seem to be in for the long haul."

"This may take much time," Spock agreed. "We will soon send in replacements for these healers, so they do not become too tired. Such work, even with help, can be very draining. But now, there is someone I wish you to meet." Spock stepped aside so that Jim could see the newcomer better. "James T. Kirk, I wish to introduce you to my friend, Doctor Philip Boyce."

Jim felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop with surprise. "Aren't you... Uh..."

"Starfleet Surgeon General, yes," Boyce said, eyes on the patient in the other room. "I'm not technically here, though. I'm actually still on Earth, taking a few days off. But I have friends that allow me to travel under another name, as long as I don't mind traveling as a janitor at times." Boyce smiled a bit when he turned to look at Kirk. "Not even the Head of Starfleet Security knows I'm here. Just as he is unaware of where you and McCoy are."

"Sir, about that--"

"No." Boyce held up a hand. "I agree. John needed you and McCoy more than we needed to have you report in. The other Admirals might not agree, but I'm not in the mood to care. John is a long-time friend of mine. I'm just sorry I couldn't get here before the procedure started. But I know he was anxious to get this over with, one way or another."

"You're.... you're the friend he contacted?" Jim asked with surprise.

"I've been friends with John for about forty years now. He saved my life, way back when." Boyce shook his head, his eyes back on John. "That's the one thing about space travel. You meet a lot of interesting people. And as a young doctor, you see a lot of interesting things. When I met John, he'd been killed by an attacking Andorian pirate, who was coming after me next. I could hold my own, back then, but not against an Andorian out for human blood. Something amazing happened, when a man who'd been run through with a huge knife got up, pulled it out, then used it on the Andorian who was coming after me with his spare. Then the dead man acted like nothing had happened. John saved my life, and once he told me his story I promised my silence in return. Didn't take a rocket scientist to see what any society would do with a secret like his. So, I kept quiet and we became good friends. One of the few friends John has allowed himself through the years. And as a friend, I've helped him... stay in touch."

" _You_ told him about the shimtree," Jim said. "And the data drives. You told him when they'd been discovered."

"John figured they might have survived," Boyce admitted. "If it wasn't Starfleet, someday, maybe hundreds of years in the future, it might have been someone else. Olduvai, and what happened there, had almost been forgotten. Most of the records are gone now. The mystery of the ancient alien civilization found on Mars was never public knowledge to start with. But John has always had a plan to get rid of those data drives one way or another if they should ever pop up. That's why I had their movement to Research, which was really to Section 31, delayed. To give John a chance to get to them and destroy them. _No one_ should have that knowledge. Not even in safe keeping. The shimtree, and what McCoy went through, has been the closest thing to real hope that John's had in a very long time."

"You helped him fake McCoy's transfer orders," Jim said, as the whole set up started to unfold in front of him.

"Yes, I did. And I'm sorry our plans didn't go as... planned." Boyce grimaced. "You were both supposed to stay safely visible on Mars. We didn't foresee Havalack kidnapping you both, thinking he'd gotten John. That was an unpleasant surprise, for everyone. So, instead of you both being safe with an alibi that would let me step in and announce you both innocent and give John a head start, he had to double back and track Havalack down. John had heard on the grapevine that you'd been taken just as soon as Starfleet had found you missing. So, he spent the next two weeks tracking Havalack down to get you both back safely. McCoy and his father are the only family John has left and he wasn't about to walk away with McCoy still in danger. Somehow, John got you to help him carry out the rest of his plans. That, I hadn't expected. But I'm not surprised."

"He must have hated Abeowa a lot, to have put off using the shimtree until he took him down," Jim said.

"Yes, he did. And he tried to help Starfleet shut Abeowa down many times. But in the underground, Abeowa was hard to pin down." Boyce smiled. "But you'll be glad to know that I just got word that Abeowa has been captured and his ship confiscated. Starfleet Security has the secure PADD back and the data drive. And soon we'll know if John's been able to kill two birds with one stone. Or not."

"How's that?" Jim asked.

"Oh, let me keep some secrets for myself, my boy," Boyce said with a smile. He then turned away from the window and went to sit down in one of the chairs in the rest area. "Come and sit, Captain. We have your future to discuss."

"And I must attend to my other matters, Jim," Ambassador Spock said. "I will be kept informed of Mr. Grimm's progress, and will return if needed."

Jim said goodbye to the ambassador and, not without a little trepidation, went to sit across from Branch Admiral Philip Boyce, Star Fleet Surgeon General. After settling in a chair, Boyce eyed him curiously.

"Strange, isn't it, when you meet someone you feel you should know?" Boyce asked him. "When Ambassador Spock and I met, soon after the destruction of Vulcan, I felt somehow I knew him. Then he turns around and tells me that he and I worked together, in his alternate universe. I was Captain Pike's CMO on the Enterprise and he was just starting out as Pike's Third in Command. Eventually rose to First Officer. Told me that he and I served together for several years. Now, it didn't happen that way in _this_ universe, but I still feel like it did."

Boyce shook his head, looking thoughtful. "I now wonder if all those strangers we feel are familiar, who are friends at first glance, are actually friends, co-workers or even lovers in another universe. Maybe we have gut feelings for a reason, because the universe is trying to tell us something we should already know. Which is why I'm going with _my_ gut feelings about you and McCoy."

"And what feelings are those, Sir?" Jim asked, wondering where this was going. He and McCoy could face all kinds of charges, whether they'd stick or not, if Boyce chose to press any. Some they could weather and others their careers wouldn't survive, depending on them telling the truth or telling a lie when they got back. Once Starfleet Security knew who John was, and that they'd helped him, that arrest warrant on McCoy would look like the invitation to a kid's birthday party in comparison.

"First off," Boyce began with certainty, "is that you _need_ to get back on that ship, which will be ready to leave in another month. You two need to get your asses back to work. And secondly, that you two can be trusted with the truth. Which is why I've told you as much as I have. And to get you back home I've contacted Admiral Oberts, Head of Starfleet Security, and ordered him to call off his warrant on Doctor McCoy. He is now to stand down on his search for the two of you."

Then Boyces smiled smugly. "Officially, on file and back-dated correctly, I've got you two down as having been assigned some undercover work for Starfleet Medical, the Surgeon General's office in particular. You've been under my command, and direction, on an assignment known only to my office, since your ship signed into drydock. And as the posting of the arrest warrant served my purposes for your undercover assignment at the time, I let it stand. But now that your assignment is coming to an end I'm having it retracted and a new notice put out. It states in no uncertain terms that there are _no_ charges pending against Doctor McCoy. Everyone go about their business, _nothing_ to see here."

"You can do that?" Jim asked with growing hope.

"Of course I can," Boyce huffed. "The original charges were about a theft from a Starfleet Medical Secure Location. After the theft, I sent you and McCoy undercover to try to track down any movement of a suspected stolen virus. You did so, and now how I handle what you discovered is up to me. And I've decided that this is so top secret, only the next Surgeon General can see the files. Which won't happen, because I won't be filing anything. Happens all the time, only it's usually Starfleet Security that pulls rank on who needs to know and who doesn't. And you two are hereby ordered not to talk about the assignment to anyone but _me_. So, if any other department gives you any flack, contact me and I'll set their ears to burning for messing with you."

"And Admiral Oberts, the head of Starfleet Security, will let this go?"

"Well, since I'm not bitching about the return of that data drive he's going to discover in Abeowa's ship, which is actually Starfleet Medical's stolen property, he won't give a shit about you and McCoy. What he _will_ find disturbing is that there's an old undercover operative of mine, named John Grimm. And this Grimm fellow has a whole shit-load of backstory on file in my office, and is due to retire to a location of his choice. With strict orders in place that he is to be left alone. Period. That is," Boyce said with a sigh, "if John survives this and is a normal human again."

"So, Starfleet Security won't come after him."

"So Section 31 won't come after him," Boyce corrected. "Not that they won't do what they want, but they'll know that they'll have me on their ass if they make a move on him. And if John's human again, there won't be any reason to mess with the man. Nothing left to find or study once that chromosome is destroyed. And if he isn't..." Boyce sighed.

"I've promised to end him, if he turns," Jim said quietly, meeting Boyce's eyes.

"I figured, son," Boyce said sadly. "He said he had that scenario taken care of when he called me to say goodbye. If it happens, here and now, I won't move to stop you. It'd be a mercy for him and I both. It's what to do with him if he lives, or never comes out of a coma, that I really worry about. He could come out of this in really bad shape, if he comes out of it at all."

"McCoy and I've talked about that, and I think we have some suggestions," Jim admitted.

Boyce smiled. "Well spill it, son, before I have to leave. You have no idea how much in demand a janitor's services are around this place. So much damned shit to clean up all the time."

 

***

 

Admiral Joshua Oberts, Head of Starfleet Security, and the secret Head of Section 31, held the blue data drive discovered in the outlaw's ship in his hand. He was more than excited, he was ecstatic. Olduvai had been his obsession for so long, he'd forgotten how to enjoy anything else in his life. And this one cube could hold the secrets to those missing 30 days. And maybe, if the records of the old, defunct, UAC were true, the secrets to the long life of the fabled, Seeders, Progenitors, or Preservers... whatever name anyone had wanted to call the original life form of this universe. No disease, no cancers, and a life span years beyond what humans could ever hope to achieve on their own.

Oberts handed it to the waiting computer tech, then watched to make sure that the artifact was handled gently. If they were lucky, it would still work. If they were very, very lucky, it would be the data from the Genetics lab itself. At this point, any clue to what had looked in the confiscated UAC files to be the breakthrough of the millennia would be supremely helpful.

The techs set the data drive on a platform and performed a scan.

"There's data there, Sir," one of the techs announced eagerly. "A lot of it's corrupted, but because they'd started using a crystalline structure to--"

"If I wanted a history lesson," Oberts snapped, "I'd have ordered one. Just tell me what you've found."

"Files, Sir. Documents, in an old-fashioned hierarchy format. I think we can open a few at this time."

"Do so! Let's see what we've got!"

And they did open them, for several hours, pulling one file up at a time. By the end of the first hour Oberts was fuming. By the end of the second he'd stormed out in disgust. But the techs had orders to scan and record every document, every page, on the disk. Which they did in a meticulous fashion. Unfortunately, all they had really found was someone's old digital-book library. Someone who was very, very fond of pre-2046 porn.

What they didn't catch, and wouldn't have even if they had been looking for it, was the virus that slowly crept out of the data disk as each file was opened. And when enough documents had been opened and scanned for storage, the virus was free to do as it was programmed. Which was to find every mention, every hint, every suggestion of the existence of John Grimm before Stardate 2236, and erase them. Then to adjust the file data so that there would be no discrepancy in file size, content or date. Then it would move on to any other computer connected to Section 31, and so on, and so on, until every data bit on John Grimm's possible existence earlier than 24 Terran years ago was erased and overwritten. So that not even the old Rapid Response and Tactical Squad information on him remained. And not even a hole in the data was left to leave anyone wondering what had been removed.

It took only thirty-six hours for the virus to find Admiral Oberts' files in his personal computer and the secure computer in his office. It would take Admiral Oberts several months to discover that when he went back to check on the data he'd been collecting for years, on a man who only existed in Starfleet Surgeon General's files, that his own data was gone. Even the backups and _their_ backups were bereft of any mention of the man. All that was left was a detailed account of how Admiral Joshua Oberts, Head of Starfleet Security and the secret head of Section 31 had spent a large part of his later years looking into, and painstakingly detailing, his relentless research into a man named _'Santa Claus'_  and his perchance for breaking into houses where little children lived.

But there would be, a few weeks after this was all accomplished if not actually discovered, an anonymous packet sent to Starfleet's master programmers to point out that they'd had holes in their system that a virus could get through. Which would freak them out no end and be plugged immediately. So, no harm done.

Not really important harm anyway. Because the trial run of the virus that had erased John Grimm had erased a good portion of Doctor Leonard McCoy's early life out of many public records. Not that Doctor McCoy had noticed. Or really cared about things like that. But it _had_ confused his husband a bit.

 

***

Eight weeks later

***

 

John Grimm woke up slowly, eyes feeling glued closed, aware of the pain. It was strange. He wasn't used to having to think about pain. It was something that happened quickly, there and gone before he could really deal with it. The swiftness of self-healing had taught him how to forget any pain as it happened. But this pain was bone deep and throbbing, and it wasn't going away.

_What's happened? Why aren't I healing? Do they have me? Are they torturing me?_

He'd had nightmares for years, of finding himself as someone's lab rat, unable to escape or die, while they continually tortured him. It didn't matter who the villains were. That changed over time. But the fear of not even having death as an escaped was the same, every time.

He must have struggled. The pain in his joints, like continuous knife cuts, flared just as warm, gentle hands grabbed his wrists.

"Hold on, John. Don't struggle. It'll just hurt more."

The voice was a stranger's and the grip firm but caring. Underneath him was a soft mattress and around him a clean sheet. He pulled open his eyes, surprised at how much energy it took. A human stood above him, blocking John's view of what was obviously a hospital ceiling. An older man, hair a neat, bright white stood over him. His concerned brown eyes scanned John's face quickly. He gave John a quick smile, and the hands on John's arms squeezed gently then let go.

"Well, there you are," the man said with a gentle smile. "Thought maybe we'd still lose you. But you're a fighter, I'll give you that much."

John's mind was groggy, and he realized he didn't even have the energy to sit up. The pain lessened a bit as the man tapped on the biobed's settings. But it didn't go away completely. He blinked, trying to clear the blur around the edges of his vision. He felt used up and hollow. His mouth was dry and tasted like chemicals.

As if reading his need from his face, the man slowly raised the bed and then held out a cup with a straw. John took it between his lips gratefully, sucking in cool water.

"Not too much now, or you'll throw it back up." The man took the straw away. Probably just in time. John had wanted to drink everything in the cup.

"Who?" John forced the word past his lips. Even John could barely hear his own voice.

"You or me?" The man asked with a smile as he bent back over the bed, into John's line of sight again. "Me? I'm Doctor David McCoy. I hear tell I'm a relative of yours, if what they tell me is true. You're safe here on Deneva, John. Jim and Leonard dropped you off with me and I'm taking care of you. You? You're John Grimm, and as far as this hospital knows, you're a long lost cousin of mine. Here to recuperate from a nasty case of radiation poisoning. The boys were loathed to leave you, but they had to get back to work, you know. Starfleet likes to keep their ships working, if nothing else."

As his head cleared, he remembered what he'd done. What he'd asked them to do.

_I'm alive. I lived through it. But, am I cured? Am I human again?_

He tried to clear his throat so he could get the words out. "Did it work? Cured?" he rasped.

"If you're asking about your DNA, it's a bit ragged here and there. But looks normal to anyone who's going to want to take a peek," David shook his head. "Whatever my son gave you, it almost killed you. You've been in a coma for eight weeks. Total life support for three of them," David continued. "It's taken its toll, I'm afraid. Aged you a bit during these last few weeks."

John felt tears forming. He hadn't thought it would work. He really hadn't.

"Hey, none of that now," David took a tissue from the side table and dabbed at John's eyes as John tried to hold back a sob. "Unless they're happy tears, then you just bring 'em on."

As John tried to bring himself under control, David reached over to the table once again, and held up an old-fashioned hand mirror. Carefully, John took it, holding it up to see his own face, trying not to drop it. He took a deep breath at the sight. The skin of his face was looser, and the fold from his nostrils to his mouth was deeper. There were some light bags under his eyes and crow's feet at the corners. His hair had grown out from where he'd evened it up after that last head shot, and John saw some new splotches of gray among the ever-present black.

_I look more like my Dad now, only older. Maybe, fifty-five?_

David gently took the mirror away and continued with a smile. "No one in this hospital thought you'd make it. Hell, everyone was even surprised you survived the trip from there to here. But I know how stubborn McCoys can be. Congratulations, John Grimm, you're dying. Only, give it forty, maybe sixty years, like some of the rest of us."

A wave of relief, disbelief, and gratefulness washed over John.

_Human! I'm human again! I'll grow old and die. I don't have to be alone anymore._

He could feel tears welling up again. Before he could stop it he sobbed, and he couldn't hold back.

"Hey, now, careful! I just got some water _into_ you," David said gently as he got another tissue and folded it into John's hand. "Don't go fretting now. You've still got a ways to go before you get your strength back. We need to get that inflammation in your joints under control and get you eating again. Still plenty to do, but you'll feel normal before you know it."

John tried to control his tears, wiping almost uselessly at them. "Thank you," he said raggedly.

"Don't thank _me_ ," David said with a smile. "This is what I'm here for."

"I don't think I can repay you for--"

"No need," David broke in. "And don't you go worrying about the cost of your care or anything. Jim told me about you leaving everything to him and Leonard." He shook his head. "But they gave it all back. John Grimm has a right full credit account here on Deneva. You won't be hurting for anything credits can buy, that's for sure."

_They gave_ _it all back? They didn't have to do that. Just being alive is more than enough, and more than I deserve after what I put them through._

Then he thought of something. "You called me John. Grimm. They'll find me--"

"No one's gonna find you. My boys and your friends made sure of that. No one knows the name 'John Samuel Grimm' from Adam." David put his hand on John's arm and squeezed gently. "You're safe here, Gramps. Use any name you want, no one is going to care or come looking. And if they do... well, hear tell that there's an arsenal of upset that'll be thrown their way if they try."

"Gramps?"

David chuckled. "Got to callin' you that in my head as I helped take care of you. Then calling you that when I'd talk to you. Even when you were pretty much brain dead, figured it didn't hurt to talk. Especially since you're my only patient right now." David shrugged. "One of the nurses asked why I was callin' you that. Told her the family always considered you an _'old soul'_. I think it fits you pretty well."

John smiled tiredly. "I guess it does at that." He sighed, closing his eyes as he realized something. "Actually, I guess I never thought about what would happen afterwards. If it worked. Nothing ever worked before."

"What do you _want_ to do?" David asked curiously.

"I... I don't know," John admitted, realizing it was true.

_What do I want to do? Where do I want to go? Not back to Earth. Too many years there already. I'm tired of travel. I just want to stay someplace and rest. Find whatever peace I can before my time is up._

David patted his arm. "Well, plenty of time to make up your mind. When you feel better, you'll be able to think more clearly. But can I ask you a question, Gramps?"

John found himself smiling at the nickname. "Sure."

"How do you feel about purple houses and puppies?"

 

 


End file.
